I'm Gonna Try for the Kingdom
by my own patronus
Summary: When he was in middle school, Blaine fell in with the wrong crowd and began partying too hard. After overdosing on heroin and being kicked out of Dalton, he has to start over at William McKinley High School and fight the temptation to return to the drugs that had been his life for so long. DrugAddict!Blaine, bit of Badboy!Blaine, Klaine, Season 2 AU. Rated for drugs/language. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: When he was in middle school, Blaine fell in with the wrong crowd and began partying too hard. After overdosing on heroin and being kicked out of Dalton, he has to start over at William McKinley High School and fight the temptation to return to the drugs that had been his life for so long. DrugAddict!Blaine, a bit of Badboy!Blaine, eventual Klaine, Season 2 canon AU

**Warnings**: drug use, language, alcohol, references to underage sex (all characters over 13 though, and no graphic descriptions)

**Note**: This is the fic that I started on 4/20. I've got some of it completed, but it's not quite yet done. I don't know how frequently I'll be updating, but it will be completed eventually. Title comes from the song "Heroin" by the Velvet Underground.  
This story might seem a bit far-fetched in terms of how young the characters are. Unfortunately, with the exception of the heroin usage, this is how and when it started for a few people I knew.

I've been posting this on tumblr for the past few weeks, so I've decided that I should start posting it here, too. I've combined the first five parts already published into three chapters here which will be published over the next couple of days. The rest will come as I finish. I hope you all enjoy, and I love feedback!

Chapter 1 is parts 1 & 2 from Tumblr

….

It happened by accident.

Blaine was at his friend Charlie's house for a sleepover. Charlie's parents had just gotten a divorce, and in an attempt to win his sons' affections, Mr. Leighton allowed his sons to do whatever they wanted. So while the two 12-year-old boys tried to play video games in Charlie's bedroom, a party raged around them, hosted by Charlie's 16-year-old brother, Mitch.

Mr. Leighton had seen the cars full of rambunctious teenagers and taken a sleeping pill before locking himself in his room for the night.

After a few hours, Blaine and Charlie decided that they couldn't ignore the noise anymore, so they went downstairs to investigate. They found Mitch in the screened-in porch with three other kids. There was a funny smell in the air and the three boys and one girl were all giggling and slurring their words.

There was an empty bottle of something on the table in the middle of the room as the kids passed a cigarette – or something – between them.

"Mitch, what are you doing?" Charlie demanded.

"Charlie!" Mitch responded happily. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here, Mitch, remember?"

"Right! Guys, this kid is hilarious. I fucking love my brother," he told his friends, laughing and embracing Charlie messily.

"Are you – are you _high_?" Charlie asked in shock.

"Shh!" Mitch ordered, laughing loudly.

"Mitch, dad is _right upstairs!_ What are you doing?"

"Having fun! You should too!"

Blaine had been silently standing behind his friend, intimidated by the older kids. The one girl on the porch seemed to take notice of him.

"Aw, you're such a cutie!" she cooed. "Come sit with me!"

Blaine looked helplessly at his friend as he was dragged away.

After a while, though, things settled down. The girl who had abducted Blaine was named Jamie and she was incredibly sweet. And affectionate. She kept offering Blaine drink after drink, and he finally gave in.

At first, nothing seemed different, but after a while, Blaine noticed that everything seemed a little … fuzzy. And quiet. He accepted another drink, trying to clear his head, but that only made things worse. Soon the room was swimming before his very eyes.

Blaine could hear Jamie talking, to him, perhaps, but he couldn't make anything out. Soon, the cigarette was being thrust in front of his face, so Blaine accepted. When he breathed in, it didn't taste like he expected – like cigarettes smell. It tasted stuffier, like the weird smell in the room.

Blaine exhaled the smoke in a fit of coughs. Jamie patted him on the back.

"The first hit is always the hardest," she reassured him. "But it gets better."

Blaine couldn't find his voice yet, so he nodded, letting out another strangled cough.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Blaine didn't take another drag on the strange cigarette – which he later found out was pot – but he did have another drink.

When he woke up the next morning, he was curled into Jamie's side on the couch.

"Hey little B," she cooed. "Have fun last night?"

Blaine's head was pounding and he felt sick to his stomach, but he still smiled and nodded at the earlier girl.

"Mitch, you should tell your brother to keep this kid around," she called. "He'll be fun next time!"

* * *

The next time it happened, Charlie told Blaine that his brother was having a party and he was invited. Charlie was more than a little annoyed with Blaine, so Blaine intended to reject the invite.

But he didn't.

He said he was just going to hang out with Charlie, but the two boys ended up in the basement again. This time, Blaine accepted a drink right away and even convinced Charlie to have a few sips.

Jamie pulled him over to a group of two other girls and all three began running their fingers through his curls and slurring about how adorable he was. He blushed slightly, causing them to giggle even more.

An hour later, Blaine had taken two hits when the joint was passed around, and he was feeling pleasantly buzzed.

* * *

The pattern continued throughout the summer. Blaine and Charlie would hang out with Mitch, Jamie, and their friends most weekend nights. They would smoke and drink, and occasionally took midnight swims in the Leighton's pool – mostly naked.

By the time school resumed in the fall, Blaine was a completely different person. He almost always carried a joint that he had rolled himself in his back pocket for those moments when he got too stressed and just needed a release. Life was good.

* * *

On New Year's Eve, Blaine was promised the best party of his life. He had no idea how Mitch was planning to improve on his already out-of-control ragers, but he knew it would happen.

A little before midnight, Jamie pulled a packet out of her back pocket and passed it around. Everyone took something out of it. When it reached Blaine, he looked in and saw a few small pills.

"E," Jamie whispered with a cheshire cat grin.

Blaine took the pill.

When the effects set in, Blaine felt a swooping sensation throughout himself. He finally understood why it was called 'ecstasy.' All of his inhibitions were erased – not that he had many at this point. All he wanted was to get up and dance, preferably as close to others as possible.

By 1 am, Blaine was grinding against a boy who he barely knew and grinning as he sang along to the music.

"Want to go somewhere more private?" the boy suggested.

Blaine immediately agreed.

They were in a bedroom upstairs. It was probably Mitch's, but Blaine couldn't bring himself to care. All he wanted was the boy that was currently pulling off his shirt roughly. Blaine grinned when he saw the exposed skin.

"Your turn," the boy said flirtatiously.

Blaine pulled his shirt off without a second thought.

"God, you're so hot," the boy said.

Blaine had never heard that before. He'd heard the girls call him cute and adorable, but never hot. He liked it. So he reached his head up and sloppily planted his lips on the boy's.

They messed around for a while, rolling in Mitch's bed. Soon they were both only in boxers, erections pushing painfully through.

"Want to make this a night you'll _really _remember?" the boy suggested with a glint in his eye.

Blaine nodded hungrily.

The boy pulled a small baggie of white powder from his pocket with a grin. He reached over and cleared a space on Mitch's dresser before pouring out the powder and began dividing it into a few bumps. He then searched around before finding and rolling up a piece of paper and handing it to Blaine.

"Here," he offered. "Take the small one and go easy since it's your first time." He pointed to the first and smallest bump he had divided the powder into.

Blaine took the makeshift straw with shaking fingers and placed it in his nose. Imitating the actions he'd seen so many others do before, he snorted up the small row.

It burned the inside of his nose, and all Blaine wanted to do was snort it back out. But he didn't. He didn't want this boy to think any less of him. So he ignored the burn and passed the straw back.

Blaine couldn't remember much of the rest of the night. The alcohol, ecstasy, and cocaine all combined to form some sort of psychedelic experience that he could only remember in bits and spurts. But when he awoke the next morning, there was a pool of dried cum on his chest and another boy beside him.

* * *

Blaine met up with Tom, the boy from the party, more and more frequently after that. After a while, Tom insisted that Blaine had to pay him in some form for all the drugs he was providing. That surprised the boy; he'd never even thought about where the beautiful powder came from and he never wanted it to disappear.

So he suggested something else to Tom.

Up until that point, the two boys had never had actual, penetrative sex. Sure, there had been plenty of blow jobs and hand jobs exchanged, and even a bit of fingering, but Blaine had managed to draw the line somewhere in his drug-induced haze.

So he suggested to Tom that he would fuck for the drugs.

Tom's eyes lit up at the idea. "Baby, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to get in your tight hole," he slurred seductively.

Blaine was pretty sure he knew _exactly_ how long Tom had been waiting – 6 months. It had been six months since New Year's, after all.

Blaine was now up to snorting two much larger bumps a night, and always had to take his own baggie home to keep himself satisfied until he saw Tom next.

The sex, alcohol, parties, and drugs were more than enough to keep Blaine entertained through the beginning of his last year of middle school – until it wasn't enough.

Blaine would call Tom in the middle of the week, multiple times, begging for more. He'd offer money along with his body just to have another hit. When Tom refused, said Blaine was going too hard, Blaine took to the streets.

He found another dealer, behind the highway overpass, who promised Blaine that this would be better than anything he'd ever tried before.

It looked just like the cocaine that Tom supplied him with, but it wasn't. It was heroin. And he was promised that it would be the greatest experience of his life.

Blaine could barely make it home. He was shaking; whether it was from anticipation or withdrawal from the drugs, he wasn't sure. He locked himself in his bathroom and heated up the powder on a spoon. He prepared the syringe and needle the dealer had given him before tying a rubber band around the top of his arm.

Blaine was so focused on simply getting the drugs in his system that he didn't even wince at the prick as he slid the needle messily into his skin and let the clear liquid go.


	2. Chapter 2

Parts 3&4 from Tumblr

* * *

Within six months, Blaine had gone from bad to worse, completely addicted and completely lost. He spent every penny he could scrounge – including some of his parents' money, not that they cared enough to notice – on heroin, and supplemented it during the weekend by spending nights with Tom and others. He was virtually unrecognizable – thin, eyes glazed, hair messy, clothes torn, and veins collapsed.

It was the end of eighth grade. Blaine, now 14 years old, paid biweekly visits to the underpass to collect from his dealer.

One night in May, he was crouched on a park bench, too strung out to even wait to get home. He was just injecting the drugs into his arm when a bright beam of light landed on him. Lazily, Blaine lifted the arm to shield his eyes, and he saw them.

His reflexes were too dulled by the drugs to do much of anything, but he still tried to run. He made it about 15 feet before a large police officer stood in front of him.

Blaine was handcuffed and his body was searched. He felt physically pained as the officer discovered another small bag of powder in his pocket and confiscated it. Then he was brought to the station.

As bad as he knew the situation was, the drugs were still coursing through Blaine's body. He enjoyed the symphony of color and noise and the rush of adrenaline. He ignored the prick of the needle as his blood was drawn. He missed the look on the face of the officer when he caught sight of Blaine's collapsed veins and all the track marks across both arms. He sank into the familiar and wonderful headspace as they left him in a holding cell.

A few hours later, Blaine woke, roused by noises and lights that hurt his pounding skull. Moments later, there was a loud clanging and he was recuffed and brought to an interview room.

His parents' lawyer was already seated there, and the woman looked anything but pleased with Blaine when she saw him.

The police officer asked him all sorts of questions, threw his drug test in his face, but Blaine said nothing. The pounding in his head was getting worse by the minute.

"Look, can I just get a hit – a small one – to clear up my head?" he begged.

His lawyer sharply silenced him, but Blaine was craving.

"Please?"

The lawyer talked to the police officer some more before the officer left the room.

"Look, Blaine, if you just tell them who your dealer is, they'll let you go with community service and rehab. You won't have to serve any time. I think this is best for you and your family, so just tell them who it is, alright?"

"Just one more hit, please?" Blaine begged.

In the end, he told them everything he knew about the man that had been supplying him with drugs for the last seven months. The officers looked pleased enough, and let Blaine go.

When he reached the station lobby, his parents were waiting, looks of anger painted on their faces. Next to them was a tall, unfamiliar man.

"Hi Blaine, my name is Jeremy," he said kindly.

Blaine avoided the man's eyes and shivered slightly.

"I'm a counselor at Cool Woods Rehab Center. Your parents called me and told me about you, and we all think it would be best if you came with me right away."

"What? No, I don't need rehab or anything. I'm _fine_," Blaine said.

"Then why are you shaking?"

"It's cold."

"Blaine, it's eighty degrees outside and not air conditioned in here."

"Well, _I'm_ cold."

"Blaine, you have a problem and your parents just want you to get help."

"Then why didn't _they _notice anything?" Blaine said.

No one knew quite how to answer it.

"Exactly. I'm perfectly fine and I _don't _need rehab. Now, if you'll excuse me," Blaine said, trying to push around the adults.

"Sorry, Blaine, but rehab isn't a choice. If you don't go to rehab then you'll have to go to juvenile detention for the three months anyway. Either way, you'll have to spend three months sober. You just need to decide where you want to do this."

After a few more minutes of thoroughly exhausting fighting, Blaine gave in and let the man drag him to his van from the station. The whole time, Blaine's parents had said not one word to him.

* * *

Blaine's first night at Cool Woods was torture. He couldn't sleep. He spent most of the night shivering in the bed, covered in a cold sweat. When he wasn't lying on the lumpy mattress, he was collapsed on the floor in front of the toilet, vomiting out the nonexistent contents of his stomach.

He still felt like crap the next morning when he was dragged to counseling with Jeremy.

Blaine was incredibly resistant at first, but eventually, he began to believe what all the workers at the center preached. He started trying to resist the temptation, which was pretty easy in a place where he couldn't access the drugs. After two months, he even began taking correspondence classes to make up for the last few weeks of eighth grade. He wanted to be able to enter high school when he was released.

Color returned to Blaine's skin and his eyes were no longer glazed and gaunt. He smiled and laughed with the others at rehab, even if most were older than him. He shared his problems, his concerns.

Blaine had started with the drugs so that he could feel included and cool. After that, he had simply wanted the next thing that would stimulate him.

And then he wanted attention, his parents' affection. That's why he'd begun to steal from them. His parents had failed him when they hadn't noticed how far gone he'd become.

He didn't put the blame on himself, but he took responsibility.

On the day of his release, when Blaine received his three month sobriety pin, he had everyone convinced that he was better – himself included.

* * *

In September, Blaine enrolled at Dalton Academy. His parents thought that a private school would shield him from the temptations that he had succumbed to before. And he flourished there.

He joined the school's a cappella choir, had plenty of friends, and his grades were many times better than they had been in middle school. By the end of Blaine's freshman year, the only traces of his old life were the track mark scars on his arms and the occasional craving he got late at night.

It was the summer when everything changed.

Aaron, a Warbler who had just graduated, invited a bunch of the Dalton guys to his house for a party before he left for college. There were tons of people milling around, so it was only a matter of time before the alcohol came out.

Blaine refused the drinks he was offered, but soon found himself in a crowded basement room with a few boys he barely knew and a joint being passed around.

He knew he was supposed to refuse it; he knew he was over a year sober and proud of that. But it was just pot. Pot was nothing, it was probably better for a person than cigarettes were. He could take just one hit, right?

One turned to two, which soon became three. The boys around him were shocked that Blaine seemed to have such a high tolerance.

"Didn't know you were such a partier, Anderson," one commented.

"Yeah, well, there's a lot you don't know about me," Blaine replied, trying to be mysterious, but only succeeding in sounding like he was forgetting how to speak.

The boys found him when school started again and invited Blaine to a party.

"Come on, none of the other guys at this stuffy school know how to let loose. We know this isn't you, Anderson. We _know_ you like to go hard."

So Blaine accepted.

It was nothing at first. A couple of hits at parties over the weekends, sneaking the wine from his parents' cellar during the week.

And then it was a little bit of something. Toking up behind the greenhouses during lunch, skipping class to smoke and drink with his friends.

Then it became a thing. Skipping Warbler's rehearsal to get high. Coming home late at night, completely blazed.

Then it became something big. Snorting coke at a party, taking some home for later. Meeting guys at night to exchange money for packets of white powder.

After a while it was a big freaking thing. Heroin again. He didn't know how it happened, exactly. A drunken hookup again, probably. But then a man he was sleeping with was dangling something in front of him and Blaine felt his mouth go dry with the craving.

Before too long, it became a really fucking huge deal. He was shooting up in the bathrooms between classes, if he attended classes at all. He had stopped going to Warbler's rehearsals entirely, instead opting to hang in a shady part of Westerville to find guys who would give him the drugs he so craved, for sex or money, Blaine didn't care.

* * *

All of a sudden, it was Thanksgiving, and Blaine's brother was coming home to celebrate with the family. Blaine's perfect fucking brother who was a famous actor in Hollywood and could do no wrong in his parents' eyes. Who hadn't already majorly fucked up so bad that he was arrested.

And so while Blaine's parents went to the airport to pick Cooper up, Blaine was shooting up in his bathroom.

Something felt different this time, off, but Blaine ignored it and prepared a second dose.

* * *

When Cooper arrived home, he called out loudly to his brother. When there was no response, not even an indignant cry because he'd used the nickname that Blaine had always hated, Cooper figured that Blaine was probably sleeping. He was a kid on break from school, after all.

So he decided that he would just have to wake Blaine up himself. And if that involved jumping on top of his little brother and playfully roughing him up, so be it.

When he came to Blaine's room, however, the boy was not in his bed. Cooper was about to walk away when he noticed that the bathroom door was opened slightly and light was spilling out.

"Squirt? You in there?" Cooper said, tapping lightly on the door.

It swung open, and whatever Cooper had been expecting, this was not it. Blaine was slumped against the side of the bathtub. There was an elastic band tied around his forearm, a bleeding puncture wound in his elbow crease, and a discarded needle on the ground.

"Blaine?"

Cooper bent down and shook Blaine slightly, but the boy didn't move. His closed eyes didn't flutter.

"Shit, kid!"

Cooper reached around Blaine's neck desperately, trying to find a pulse. He finally felt the weak beat under his shaking fingers and let out a deep breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"Mom! Dad!"

His phone was in his hand and he was dialing 911 before his parents even entered the room.

"Please, we need an ambulance. My brother – I think he overdosed."

"Heroin, I think. I mean, he had a needle."

"Yeah, and I could feel a pulse. But he's not moving or anything."

"Okay."

"Please. Just hurry."


	3. Chapter 3

Part 4&5 from Tumblr

* * *

When Blaine woke up, he was shaking and sweating and aching all over. His throat was parched and his eyelids felt heavy. There was a heavy whirring noise, as well as a sharp beeping. He forced his eyes open, but immediately closed them at the harshness of the bright lights. What was going on?

"Blainey?"

Someone was talking to him.

"Blainey, are you awake?"

But who was that, and where was he?

"Please, B, just open your eyes or squeeze my hand!"

Squeeze…? Oh. There was a hand in his. Blaine tried to force his fingers to cooperate with his brain and squeezed lightly.

"Oh, thank God, Blaine! I thought I lost you, squirt!"

Squirt. He hated that name. And the only person who called him that was…

"Coo?" Blaine asked weakly. "Do'n call me… that…"

Cooper laughed, glad that it was still his little brother, but tears still sprung to his eyes at the tortured expression on Blaine's face.

"Can you open your eyes now, Blaine? Please?"

Blaine nodded slightly and licked his lips. "Thirsty," he muttered, eyes still firmly closed.

"I'll let you have some water if you just open your eyes."

"You're … a … jerk," Blaine said, but he still opened his eyes. He was rewarded with Cooper tipping a glass of water into his mouth timidly. Blaine lapped it up greedily.

"What happened?" he asked, once his thirst was finally quenched.

Cooper avoided Blaine's eyes and set the cup back down on the side table.

"You OD'd," he said quietly.

"Oh."

"I thought you were done with that shit, Blaine."

Blaine looked thoroughly guilty. "I am. I mean, I was," Blaine said. "I just – it feels _so good_, and – I didn't mean to start. I really was done. But then there was this party. And it was just a little pot, but then there was more and I remembered how it used to be and I couldn't stop."

"You know that you have to stop now. For real. Right?"

Blaine nodded. "How are – how are mom and dad taking this?"

"Not very well. They're pissed at you. As they should be. Do you know how _stupid_ you were?"

"Thanks for the support, Cooper. And it's not all my fault anyway! If they had been paying any attention to me at all, they would have noticed. It's not like my school didn't call about a million times to say I had missed class."

"That's another thing," Cooper said shiftily.

"What?"

"Your school."

"What about it?" Blaine asked carefully.

"Well, they don't exactly appreciate it when their students OD on heroin and have been drinking and sneaking drugs onto the grounds for the last few months. You're going to rehab again and then you're going to a different school."

"They kicked me out."

"They asked you to leave."

"They kicked me out."

"They -"

_"Cooper."_

"Yeah. They kicked you out. Look, Blaine, I'm sorry. I feel like I should have been there for you. Obviously staying sober is hard and mom and dad weren't much of a support system. I'm going to be there for you as much as you need it when you get out of rehab, okay?"

Blaine smiled, despite the significant pain he was in. "Thanks, Coop."

* * *

Blaine ended up spending Christmas, New Year's, and his birthday in rehab. He didn't really care, nor did he think his parents noticed.

It was easier to accept the second time around, but the staff seemed focused on making sure Blaine really wanted to recover, since this was his second stint in rehab, and he was only barely 16.

Cooper picked Blaine up on the day he was released.

"Ready for the real world?" he asked.

* * *

About a week after his release, Cooper and Blaine went to Lima's William McKinley High School. They'd decided against any school within Westerville, as Blaine's former friends attended a variety of those schools. A totally clean slate with no enablers was what Blaine needed to succeed.

He could see the doubt etched into the face of the principal at the school. Blaine's records didn't exactly read well, and neither did he. He was wearing a distressed Velvet Underground tee shirt and skinny jeans, and he still had the too-thin frame and hollow eyes of an addict. Plus, he'd had to provide a reason for his expulsion from Dalton and all the time he'd missed from school.

"We do not tolerate drugs of any kind at McKinley, Mr. Anderson," Principal Figgins warned in clipped tones.

"Yes sir," Blaine responded politely. "I'm hoping to start fresh here."

The Indian man looked skeptical, but he sighed and handed Blaine's schedule over. "Enjoy your time at McKinley."

* * *

Blaine made his way through the halls of McKinley in relative anonymity. He knew that as a new student in the middle of the year, he was sure to attract attention, but he didn't seem to get more than a few stares.

At lunch time, he put his earbuds in and ate at an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria. It was lonely, but it was better than nothing.

* * *

After a week at McKinley, the rumors started.

Some were pretty tame - "I hear he just moved here from _Alaska_."

Others hit a bit closer to the truth - "I heard he was expelled from his old school."

"I hear he's been to juvie three times already."

"I heard that he beat up a cop."

And some got startlingly close to the truth.

"My cousin knows a kid at that private school in Westerville, and he said that he used to go there and then he just dropped off the face of the earth."

Blaine really hoped that the cousin's friend didn't know any more than that. He liked that no one at McKinley knew about his past.

He was sitting in history one day when he overheard a whispered conversation between the two students in front of him. Normally, Blaine would ignore them and try to pay attention to the teacher, but something stopped him.

"Well, it's not going to be easy. Aural Intensity kicked out asses last year, and the Warblers tied with us at sectionals. But Rachel and Mr. Schue seem pretty confident," an Asian girl whispered to the slightly nerdy, wheelchair-bound boy next to her.

"Come on, we all know the Warblers only tied with us because Rachel wasn't singing lead. As much as I hate to stroke her ego any more, the girl's got a sweet set of pipes."

There it was again. They were talking about the Warblers. Blaine's stomach flipped over as he thought about how he had left his friends.

When the bell rang, he watched the two leave class.

McKinley had a glee club. It might not be a bad idea to join. Cooper kept telling Blaine that he had to make friends. Blaine wanted to just roll his eyes at his brother, but he also didn't want to keep Cooper from his job any longer than necessary. Cooper was only staying until Blaine had an adequate support system behind him.

He studied the activities board at lunch and discovered that the New Directions (awful name, really) practiced during sixth period and after school. Blaine had a free block sixth, so he decided to check out the group.

* * *

Blaine figured that his introduction to the New Directions could have gone better.

"You're the new kid, right?" a rather fierce looking boy with a mohawk asked when Blaine had introduced himself to the class. "Where'd you transfer from?"

"Dalton," Blaine muttered. "Kinda."

"Dalton?" a short brunette girl asked. "As in the Dalton Academy Warblers?"

"Yes."

"Spy!"

"Rachel," Mr. Schuester had said, trying to get her to sit down. "Blaine is a McKinley student now. Anyway, we don't even know if he was even in the Warblers."

Everyone turned an accusing eye to Blaine.

"Well?" the brunette – Rachel – prompted.

"Um, I mean, I was on the Warblers for a while, but I stopped at the beginning of the year."

"Why? We don't want members who aren't dedicated to the music and the team!"

Blaine didn't answer.

"Why'd you transfer here anyway?" a tall boy had asked next. "Isn't Dalton some snotty rich kids school? Who would want to come here?"

"I just did," Blaine answered, shields starting to go up.

"Is it true you were expelled?" mohawk asked.

"Is it any of your damn business?" Blaine shot back defensively.

Mohawk looked more than a little impressed at Blaine.

"All right," a Latina girl commented. "Hobbit's got some fire."

"What did you just call me?" he asked harshly, rounding on her.

"Hey, man, back off my girlfriend," the blonde boy sitting next to her said.

"Oh, wow, I'm so scared now," Blaine shot back sarcastically. "You know what, screw this. This crap is exactly why I got tired of the Warblers."

Blaine started towards the door, but Mr. Schuester quickly stepped in front of him. "Come on, Blaine, glee club is really fun. Why don't you just stay for one day and _then_ decide?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, but shrugged his shoulders and took a seat on the side of the room.

He had to admit, it _did_ look fun.

* * *

"Hey Squirt. How was school?" Cooper called when he heard Blaine come in the front door.

"Coop, how many times do I have to tell you, _don't _call me squirt!" Blaine shouted in response.

"Aw, but riling you up is so much fun!"

Blaine just rolled his eyes before tossing his backpack and jacket at Cooper. The first few times Cooper had insisted on searching Blaine every time he came through the door, Blaine had resisted. But he finally came to accept that his brother really did just want what was best for him.

Cooper finished with the bags and moved on to Blaine's pockets.

"Jeez, squirt, could you wear any tighter pants?" Cooper asked. "How can you fit anything in these pockets?"

"Shouldn't that be a comfort to you, Coop?" Blaine shot back.

"Touche."

"I mean, if I'm going to have to experience airport security every day when I get home, I'm not going to make it easy for you. That'd be no fun."

Cooper shook his head at his brother before turning back to the cookies that he was attempting – and failing – to bake.

"I think I'm going to join McKinley's glee club," Blaine announced after a few seconds of silence.

"Really? Squirt, that's great!"

"Yeah, so you can probably head back to LA soon."

"No way, you're not getting rid of me that fast. Anyway, I already told my manager that I wouldn't be back until June so you're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

Blaine wouldn't admit it, but he was pleased that Cooper didn't want to leave him.


	4. Chapter 4

(Part 6 on Tumblr)

* * *

Blaine officially joined the New Directions by the end of the week. They had all warmed up to him considerably after hearing his audition, except the tallest of the group – Finn. But Blaine had already accepted that they weren't going to get along, and he was fine with that.

He started spending most of his time at school with them and found that he really did like them a lot. They were people that he could have seen himself hanging out with before – if he hadn't messed up so royally.

They invited him to a party a few weeks after he joined the club. Blaine was hesitant to accept at first. That was how it had started both times. A party. But Rachel was hosting the party, and she had promised an alcohol-free evening, so Blaine decided to attend.

It had taken quite a lot of persuasion to get Cooper to allow him to go.

"Please, Coop. I swear, I'm not going to take anything. And if I do, I'll call you right away and you can take me to an NA meeting. Shit, you can do a drug test on me when I get home. Just please let me hang out with my friends for the night."

Cooper had reluctantly relented, but made Blaine promise to call at least once an hour. Blaine sighed, but was secretly grateful for his brother's overbearing nature. It was better than his parents who probably didn't even know the name of Blaine's school.

He arrived at Rachel's house a little later than everyone else and nervously tugged down the sleeves of his cardigan as he descended the stairs. The New Directions were quietly scattered around the room looking totally bored. Blaine laughed to himself. It was certainly different than any party he had ever been to. It usually took a few hours before everyone passed out.

But less than half an hour later, Puck had broken into Rachel's dads' liquor cabinet and suddenly the booze was flowing. Blaine was tempted time and time again to take just one small sip of vodka, but he knew that his judgement was shot if he was drunk.

He nervously sipped from a cup of coke that he had poured himself and sat on the fringes of the party. After a while, a drunken Rachel gathered them all together for a game of Never Have I Ever. Most were taking shots when they'd done something, Santana was stripping, but Blaine, Kurt, and Finn – the only three who were sober – were simply counting down their fingers.

The game started out tame, but it seemed everyone was trying to find something that Puck hadn't done.

"Never have I ever had a drunken hook-up," Finn announced.

Blaine clapped and put down a finger, earning himself an approving smile from Puck.

When Blaine's turn came around, he grinned before saying, "Never have I ever kissed a girl."

Puck's jaw dropped. "Dude, I thought you hooked up all the time?"

"Yeah." Blaine wondered how long it would take them to realize.

"You don't even kiss them first? Dude, respect." Puck looked slightly awed.

Blaine laughed. "Not quite, Puck. There is _plenty _of making out involved."

"Then what …?" Puck trailed off, his eyes suddenly widening. "Oh! You like dick!"

Blaine laughed. "Fuck yeah."

"How many dudes have you been with?"

"How many chicks have _you _been with?"

"I like you, Anderson," Puck said decisively. "Even more now that I know I don't have to compete with you."

The game continued, seemingly a battle between Blaine and Puck. Suddenly, the subject of drugs was broached.

"Never have I ever done weed," Tina said.

Puck took a shot, but no one else did. "Sorry to break it to you guys, but if you ate my brownies last year, you did too," he confessed in his drunken stupor.

Blaine was glad for the pandemonium that ensued. No one saw him put his finger down. He knew it was just a game and no one would know if he was lying, but he didn't want to flaunt his past. He was proud that he'd managed to kick drugs twice (and he chose to ignore the fact that he had relapsed once). He just didn't want these kids to think of him differently.

"Anyway," Rachel said loudly, "now that we know Noah drugged us last year, I think a bit of a change of pace is due."

"And what's that, Berry?" Santana slurred. "Watching you sing all night long? No thanks."

"I was _going _to suggest Truth or Dare to see if we can't find out what else Noah has done to us all," Rachel suggested haughtily.

Honestly, this group acted more like preteen girls at a slumber party than teenagers at a rager.

The group eventually agreed and watched each other complete a series of ridiculous and occasionally disgusting dares. Knowing that he'd never be able to do any of those dares sober, Blaine chose truth when it was his turn.

"Why'd you transfer from Dalton?" Artie asked. "Were you really expelled?"

"No." Blaine said, voice as hard and unforgiving as it was the day he'd first met the New Directions. "Sorry, but _no_. Not answering that one."

"Dude, you have to. It's the rules of the game!" Finn insisted.

"If you don't do your truth, then you have to drink whatever's in the cup," Puck said, indicating a cup that was filled with any and all extra alcohol from the evening.

"I can't drink, man," Blaine said.

"Then answer the question."

"It's none of your business."

"Then drink the cup!"

Blaine glared angrily between Puck, Finn, Artie, and the cup. Finally, he sighed angrily, reached out, and downed the mostly-full cup in two gulps.

"Dude, that was epic," Puck said, in awe of Blaine's ability to down alcohol apparently. "But you must have done some serious shit if you chose that over telling us."

"Who gives a fuck why I left? I'm here now," Blaine said defensively.

The game died down a bit later, and Blaine ended up in the corner. He could feel his head spinning from the alcohol. It had been a long time since he'd had anything to drink, but he still had a pretty good tolerance built up. Regardless, that had been one incredibly strong drink, and he knew he'd be drunk soon. Rather than wait to see what he'd do when that happened, Blaine texted Cooper.

**Can you come get me?**

_**Why? You have a car, B.**_

**I might be a little droink.**

_**What the fuck? I thought I made it very clear when I said you could go to the party that you weren't allowed to touch anything!**_

**Sorry, mom. I had to else I wpuld've tell them ab ot rehab and shit. Plus, I didn't take anythink. Just a drink.**

_**We're going to have a long talk in the morning. I'll be there in 10 minutes.**_

Blaine made his way upstairs, ignored by the rest of the partygoers, and waited for Cooper on the front porch. A few minutes later, Kurt Hummel of all people joined him.

"Hey," he said lazily. He could feel the alcohol in his head.

"Hey," Kurt said faintly.

"Why aren't you down at the party?"

"Not really my thing. Why aren't you?"

"M'brother's comin' to get me. I wasn't supposed to get drunk and he's super pissed."

"Oh."

"Don't you wanna know why?"

"Why what?"

"Why I left Dalton, why I can't get drunk, I don't know!"

"I guess, but you don't seem to want to tell. I'm not going to make you."

Blaine studied Kurt for a minute. "You're really hot, Kurt, you know that?"

Kurt instantly turned a deep shade of red. "Wh-what?"

"Yeah, you're way hotter than the guys I used to hook up with. Not that I ever cared about what they looked like... But you're really hot and nice and such a good person, Kurt."

"Thank you. I guess," Kurt replied uneasily. He shivered slightly in the night air.

"Are you cold?" Blaine asked. "Here, you can have this." He immediately began pulling off his cardigan.

"Oh, no, I'm -" Kurt said, but Blaine shoved it at him. "Thanks."

Blaine smiled back.

The two boys sat in silence for a few minutes until a pair of headlights flashed and Cooper came charging from his car.

"Blaine Devon Anderson!" he shouted. "What the fuck did you think you were doing? You _promised _me that you wouldn't do anything. You _promised _that it wouldn't be like before! And then I get a drunk text at 2 in the morning? What the fuck!"

"Coop, quiet!" Blaine laughed. "Anyway, I called you, didn't I? That's _different_." He threw his arms out in defense and spun around a few times before catching sight of Kurt. "Hi Kurt," he said with a giggle.

Cooper just rolled his eyes and leaned forward to drag Blaine away when he heard a sharp intake of breath from Kurt. He looked to where Kurt's gaze fell and saw the track mark scars on the insides of both Blaine's arms. Quickly, Cooper pushed Blaine's arms down so that they were hidden once again. In a much softer tone of voice, he said, "Let's _go_, Blaine."


	5. Chapter 5

(This is Part 7 on Tumblr)

* * *

Blaine was thankful when Monday morning rolled around and he was allowed to go to school. Cooper had grounded him for a month and spent about an hour yelling at him – through the hangover headache – on Sunday, so McKinley's Cooper-free halls were a blessing.

He noticed all day that Kurt was either avoiding him or staring when he thought no one else was looking. Blaine was incredibly uneasy, but he figured it had to do with his declaration of Kurt's hotness Saturday night.

And then Kurt cornered him right before after school Glee practice and dragged him into the bathroom.

"Hey, I'm all for the bathroom stall blowjobs," Blaine had joked – though there was some truth to that statement - "but I didn't really think you were that kind of guy."

"Can it, Anderson," Kurt responded coldly.

"Whoa, Kurt, I was just joking. I don't do that shit anymore. That's why I don't drink. That's why I called my brother on Saturday."

"Really? _That's _why you don't drink? Because I may have noticed something else on Saturday night."

Blaine furrowed his brow, thoroughly confused. Then Kurt pulled his cardigan from his bag. Blaine had completely forgotten about that. Suddenly the pieces fell into place. Blaine had been wearing a simple black v-neck tee shirt underneath the cardigan. His arms – and the scars – were exposed for the world to see. Unconsciously, he began rubbing his elbow creases.

"Take off your jacket, Blaine," Kurt ordered.

"No."

"Blaine, take off the damn jacket to prove that I was just seeing things Saturday night!" Kurt shouted.

Blaine dropped his bag, shocked into silence by Kurt's ferocity.

"Kurt," he finally said, "you don't want to see this."

Kurt simply glared, so Blaine peeled off his jacket and presented his arms for inspection.

Kurt gasped in horror. The small pinprick scars were so much worse in the harsh bathroom lighting.

"So, what – you're some kind of druggie or something?" Kurt asked.

Blaine flinched a little. "As a matter of fact, _no_," he answered. "Not that you seem to want to believe me, but I'm clean now."

"That's why you got kicked out of Dalton, isn't it? Because of the drugs?"

Blaine nodded, and waited for Kurt's response. It never came.

"Aren't you going to go running off to tell all your little friends about how I'm messed up and no good for the team or something? Aren't you itching to be the one who breaks the news about where the mysterious Blaine Anderson came from?" Blaine asked harshly.

Kurt gaped ahead, incapable of speech.

"Fuck this. Fuck this whole place, and _fuck you_, Hummel," Blaine said angrily, reaching down to grab his jacket and bag.

He was out the door and down the hall before Kurt regained his powers of speech.

* * *

Blaine didn't go back to glee – he didn't want to be there when Kurt smugly told everyone about how much of a scumbag he was. He drove around for a few hours, ignoring the calls from Cooper that started arriving around five. After a while, Blaine just turned off his phone.

At some point, Blaine found himself at the underpass. His old dealer was long gone, but there were always new ones to prey on the weak.

He was in a daze when he got out of his car and walked up to the first man he could find.

"Please, man, I'll take whatever you've got!" he begged desperately.

Blaine ended up forking over thirty dollars for a small bag of cocaine. He knew it was a ripoff, that the man had overcharged him and taken advantage of his desperation, but Blaine didn't care. He just needed something to get his mind off of how everything was falling to shit.

Blaine had separated the powder into bumps and found an old McDonalds straw, about to snort the powder, when he remembered the pin in the bottom of his pocket. It was for four months sobriety, and he'd only gotten it a few weeks ago. He didn't want to have to start over again.

Clutching it tightly in his hand, Blaine called Cooper.

"Blaine! Where are you? You haven't been answering your calls and you were supposed to be home hours ago!"

"Coop," Blaine whimpered.

"Blaine? What's wrong? Talk to me, squirt!"

"Help me, Coop."

"What's going on, Blaine? Where are you?"

"I went back," Blaine whispered. "To my dealer -"

Cooper swore

"But I didn't do anything, I swear! I – I just think I'm going to."

"What do you mean, B?"

"I mean, I've got it and it's just sitting here, and I can't think of any reason to not just take it. Just one little breath and then everything would be perfect."

"Blaine, just stay on the line. Keep talking to me, don't take the stuff, and I'll be there as soon as I can," Cooper said soothingly. "I'm in my car now."

Blaine could distantly hear the engine roaring to life as Cooper pulled out of the driveway.

"I hate this, Coop. I hate being so weak. I hate that it can control me."

"You're not weak, Blaine. You're so strong. You've kicked this twice. I know you can beat it now."

"But I never chose to, Coop. I was forced to go to rehab. They say that it doesn't work unless you want it to, and I didn't want it to! I don't want it to!"

"Blaine, just wait until I get there before you do anything! Please, don't give in."

Blaine was openly sobbing on his end of the line, and Cooper knew that he was seconds away from that as well. But he knew that he had to stay strong for his brother.

What was probably only five minutes – but felt like five hours – later, Cooper's car pulled up right next to Blaine. He flung himself out of the vehicle and over to where Blaine was still kneeling in front of the notebook with the neat rows of white powder. Not even pausing to say anything to Blaine, Cooper picked up the notebook and scattered the powder on the ground.

"Thanks," Blaine said shakily.

Cooper still didn't say anything, he just took Blaine in his arms and embraced him tightly. "I'll always be here for you, little brother."


	6. Chapter 6

(Part 8 on Tumblr)

* * *

Cooper told Blaine that he didn't have to go to school the next day, but Blaine didn't feel like putting off the inevitable. Plus, his absence would only make the rumors that much worse.

He was surprised when he walked into the building and no one stared at him or pointed or talked behind his back. He was even more surprised when Mercedes found him in the hallway and said, "We missed you in glee yesterday. Sorry you were sick!"

So Blaine did the only thing he could think of and he found Kurt.

"What gives, Hummel?"

"Huh?" Kurt asked absently as he fished through his locker for a folder.

"I give you the juiciest piece of gossip that this school has seen this year and you keep it to yourself?"

"Blaine," Kurt said, turning around, "I was in the closet for way too long and spent too much time keeping secrets for fear of my classmates to ever want to expose someone else's secrets."

"Oh. You really didn't tell anyone?"

"No. And I'm a little hurt that you'd think so little of me."

"I don't. I just – freaked. Thanks, I guess, Kurt."

* * *

Blaine walked into glee that afternoon feeling incredibly light. He knew he shouldn't; he'd very nearly undone four months' hard work – again – only yesterday, yet things seemed much better today. Regionals was in only a week, so they were working hard on their Original Songs in rehearsal. Blaine laughed along as his friends' song lyric suggestions grew steadily more ridiculous. For the first time in months, he felt really free.

After practice, Blaine caught up to Kurt.

"Hey, Kurt, do you maybe want to come by my place?" he asked nervously.

Kurt raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I mean, we've never really talked that much, but you're the one person here who knows the most about me, so I'd like it if we could maybe be friends."

Kurt smiled. "Sure. I'd love to. Let me just go let Finn know that I won't be home for a while."

* * *

When Blaine opened the front door, he immediately called out to his brother. "Coop, I'm home! And I brought company, so put on your pants!"

Kurt shot Blaine a very confused look.

"I wish I could say I was joking," Blaine said, "but my brother's taking his temporary hiatus from work very seriously. I've found him in his boxers more times than I'd like to admit."

Kurt laughed, and Blaine found himself enjoying the sound. "You can leave your stuff here, or bring it up to my room," Blaine offered. "I've just got to – Oh, Coop!"

Cooper had just walked around the corner. "Hey Squirt. Who's your friend?"

"Kurt Hummel," Kurt said, holding out a hand politely.

"You were the one from the party the other night, right?"

Kurt nodded.

"Thanks for looking after him."

Blaine rolled his eyes, and then did something very strange. He handed Cooper his backpack and jacket and held out his arms, as if waiting to be patted down.

"Drama queen," Cooper muttered as he looked through Blaine's backpack.

Kurt held his tongue as Blaine was searched upon entering his own house. Obviously Blaine had been much worse off than Kurt had ever suspected.

"All clean," Cooper announced when he finished searching Blaine's pockets.

"What a surprise," Blaine quipped. "You know, you don't _have _to do that, Coop."

"Really, Blaine? Because recent events would suggest otherwise."

Blaine blushed, knowing that Kurt had overheard. "Yeah, well, I called you, didn't I?"

"That you did. Now, go play with your friend, or whatever it is that you do."

"Coop!"

Kurt merely laughed at the two brothers' playful banter and obvious love. "You guys are really sweet," Kurt observed lightly.

"Yeah," Blaine said. "If it wasn't for Coop, I probably wouldn't have gone back to rehab. He's my rock."

Kurt tried not to look too surprised at the new information as he followed Blaine up the stairs.

"Okay," Blaine announced. "I'm going to really quick tell you everything, and then we're going to talk about something else. Okay?"

"Okay."

"So. Middle school. Got into partying. Started drinking. Started smoking. Tried E, got hooked on cocaine, needed something harder, got hooked on heroin. Stole a bit, fucked a lot. Got arrested for buying drugs at the end of eighth grade, spent three months in rehab. Went to Dalton to get away from the 'bad influences' of my old friends. Did well there. Went to a party, took one hit off a joint, fell off the sobriety wagon, got back on the hard stuff. OD'd on heroin right before Thanksgiving this year. Spent another three months in rehab. Came to McKinley. Almost relapsed last night, but still almost five months sober. At least off drugs. You know I drank at Rachel's the other night. That's the Cliff's Notes version."

"Can I ask one question?" Kurt said timidly.

"You just did."

"I mean another one," Kurt shot back, feigning annoyance.

"Shoot."

"You said you OD'd?"

"Yeah. Doctors said that Coop saved me. He found me about twenty minutes after and got me to the hospital just before I started going into failure. That's why he stayed here, too. My parents haven't exactly been the best support system. They never noticed when I got into drugs the first time or when I got back into it, even though they said they were looking out for me. Everyone said I needed a support system at home or else I'd fall off again, so Coop stayed."

"Wow."

"Anyway, that's enough about me. Tell me about the illustrious Kurt Hummel."

* * *

Kurt ended up staying for close to an hour after dinner. It wasn't until he looked down at his phone and realized that he needed to leave soon to make curfew that he ran from the Anderson house, but not before hugging Blaine as he said goodbye.

When Blaine closed the door, he turned around slowly with a huge grin on his face. It was immediately wiped off by Cooper.

"Oooh, Blainey's got a crush!" he teased.

"Shut up, Coop," Blaine said, but without much conviction.

"Come on, Blaine, Kurt seems to like you. Maybe you should ask him out?"

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to go out with an ex-junkie that fucked dudes for drugs and threw his loved ones under the bus to get his hands on more of the stuff," Blaine said harshly.

"Don't talk about yourself like that, Blaine. You're a really great guy and Kurt would be lucky to have you."

"Other way around, Coop."


	7. Chapter 7

(part 9 on Tumblr)

a/n: As I read over this chapter before publishing, I realized that a scene in it highly resembles a scene from another fic that deals with a similar topic. I honestly have no idea whether I wrote this scene or read that fic first (I don't really write in order which is why small updates take so long, and I only discovered that fic just under a month ago - after I started writing this). If I could think of another way to make this work, I would, but I really like how it turned out. SO I just want to give credit/a shout out to poetic star, author of _All That Glitters_.

* * *

On the morning of regionals, Blaine straightened the cuffs on his black oxford as he stared at himself in the mirror. Staring back at him was a stranger. He wasn't the pudgy preteen who hadn't know what pot smelled like anymore, nor was he the lanky kid who'd been arrested. He wasn't the Dalton boy, nor the emaciated teen who'd overdosed. He didn't know who he was anymore. He was a young man with unmanageable curls and hazel eyes and track mark scars on his arms and issues to spare. He was a member of the New Directions. He was no longer defined by the chemicals that coursed through his veins, or the way he threw his sexuality around. But he didn't know any other ways to define himself.

He knew that it was most likely Kurt's doing that the shirts were long sleeved, rather than the short-sleeved shirts that he'd seen pictures of the boys wearing for sectionals, and for that Blaine was very thankful.

He walked downstairs, almost too nervous to eat the bowl of oatmeal that Cooper placed in front of him. But he swallowed it all, and almost made it out the door without wishing he could take just one hit to take the edge off.

Aural Intensity performed first, a mind-boggling set of cheesy songs praising Jesus. Blaine wasn't sure if he should laugh at them, so he stood and applauded instead, exchanging confused looks with his teammates.

Then the Warblers walked on stage. Blaine tensed up as soon as he saw Sebastian's lithe form step out to begin belting Pink's "Raise Your Glass." He and Sebastian had been friends for a moment at Dalton, and they'd even flirted a bit once upon a time. But they were mostly rivals. Rivals for the Warblers solos, rivals for the highest grades in class, rivals on the sports field. And then Blaine had fallen back into the drugs. Sebastian had know. He had seen Blaine shooting up outside the school on more than one occasion. And he had only sneered at the shorter boy and walked away.

Blaine resolutely stayed sitting when the rest of the audience stood to applaud the Warbler's performance. Kurt shot him a curious look, but Blaine avoided him and simply stood up and followed his teammates to the green room.

Blaine knew that the New Directions had brought down the house with their original songs. He knew they'd beaten the Warblers. He couldn't help but feel slightly guilty at that. Sure, he and Sebastian had had their problems, but some of the guys had been really close friends – Wes, David, Trent, Jeff, Nick – before Blaine had lost control.

Yet when they were all gathered on stage for the awards ceremony, all of the Warblers stared resolutely forward, refusing to look Blaine's way.

To no one's surprise, the New Directions were announced as the winners. Blaine celebrated with his team for a moment before deciding to go over and try to talk to his old friends.

"Hey," he said timidly.

Several blazer-clad backs turned, and Blaine was soon facing the stony glares of his old classmates. "Long time no see."

"Blaine," Thad said frostily.

"You look better," Wes added.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. He didn't even bother pretending they didn't know what had happened to him. He knew that his trip to rehab had been Dalton's top piece of gossip. "Rehab really worked for me this time. I think I'm off the stuff for good."

There was a derisive snort from behind a few of them. They parted and Sebastian came into sight.

"Come on, Blaine, we all know that isn't true. As soon as things don't go your way again, you'll go back to being the lowlife scum that we all know you are."

Blaine was struck dumb.

"You've got these idiots tricked, just like you tricked us last year. Well, let's just hope they don't give you any responsibility or you'll probably sabotage them at Nationals."

"Guys, come on -" Blaine protested.

"Give it a rest, Blaine. We don't want to hang out with a good-for-nothing junkie. And if these guys know what's good for them, they'll stop associating with you, too."

At the slightly ashamed look on Blaine's face, Sebastian squealed in delight.

"They don't know, do they? Aw, you probably got them all thinking you were some poor little rich boy, when really you fucked anything that moved just so you could get your hands on some smack."

Blaine was breathing deeply, trying to control his anger. "Fuck you!" he shouted at Sebastian, catching the attention of the few people still in the auditorium.

"Sorry, Blaine, but I don't have any dope for you," Sebastian said. "But -" and he started rummaging through his pockets condescendingly before producing a five dollar bill, "I think this would be enough for your services. You always were cheap. But you'd have to wear a condom. Who knows _what _I might catch from you otherwise."

Blaine lost control and lunged forward, tackling Sebastian to the ground.

"Shut – the – fuck – up!" he shouted, punctuating his words with hits to Sebastian's chest. "You don't have _any _idea what you're talking about!"

Blaine was forcibly pulled off of Sebastian by Finn and Puck, who held him back tightly.

"Do you think I _care_? You're just some worthless junkie who's going to end up dead in a couple of months when you relapse _again_."

"Fuck you!" Blaine shouted loudly at Sebastian's retreating back, still fighting against the two stronger boys holding him.

They didn't release him until Sebastian was long gone. Blaine furiously paced the stage for a few minuted, before sitting down and curling up, running his fingers through his hair.

"God, I need a hit right now," he muttered desperately.

Kurt walked up to him and tried to rest a hand on Blaine's shoulder. The younger boy nearly jumped out of his skin at the contact and jumped to his feet, manic once again.

"Just – leave me alone right now!" he shouted, not caring who his audience was.

Blaine stalked out of the building and to his car. He was just turning on the engine when Kurt jumped in the front seat.

"Not the time, Hummel."

"Blaine -"

"Get out of my car!"

"Please, just -"

"Out!"

"No."

It was so calm and self assured that Blaine froze. "No?"

"No. I won't get out of this car. I'm not going to let you do something you'll regret. Think about it, Blaine. You were just telling me how proud you were to be almost five months sober. That's great! You don't want to mess it up now because of some meerkat-faced prep school snob in a blazer."

"Come on, Kurt, you heard him. I really am just some junkie who's going to run out of luck and end up dead in a gutter from an overdose."

"No, Blaine, you're not. I hate that that's the way you see yourself. Want to know what I see when I look at you?"

Blaine rolled his eyes and didn't respond.

"I see an arrestingly handsome man with the most gorgeous and expressive eyes I've ever seen. I see a smart, strong, confident man. Sure, one who hides behind defenses that he's constructed, but he's strong on his own."

Blaine was quiet for a long time. "You really think that?" he asked in a small, hesitant voice.

Kurt nodded. "I do," he whispered.

Before either boy knew what they were doing, they leaned in towards each other and their lips connected in a sweet, chaste kiss. They didn't pull apart until it was absolutely necessary, until they were gasping to catch their breaths.

"Sorry," Blaine muttered.

"What on earth could you possibly be apologizing for?" Kurt asked.

"That. I highly doubt you really wanted _that_ to be your first kiss."

"Blaine, you've got to stop tearing yourself down," Kurt said. "That was the perfect first kiss."

"Even after everything Seb said? Because it was all true, and that wasn't even the worst of it."

"I don't care," Kurt said, and he leaned in to Blaine again to prove his point.

Once Blaine was reasonably calmed down, he called Cooper to explain what had just happened. Kurt still didn't leave his side – not because he didn't trust Blaine, but to provide support. Before the conversation was over, Blaine passed the phone to Kurt.

"Hello?" Kurt said, a bit confused as to why _he _was the one getting the phone.

"Kurt? I just really want to thank you for all you're doing to help my brother. It means a lot to know he has such good friends."

"Of course," Kurt said, both to Blaine and Cooper. "Blaine can always count on me."

* * *

The New Directions were gathered in the green room when Kurt and Blaine returned. Blaine got more than a few stares when he returned, so he sighed and said, "Any questions?"

"What the _fuck _just happened?" Puck asked.

"Language, Noah," Mr. Schue reprimanded halfheartedly.

"Well, those were the Warblers – obviously – and I guess, I mean – I didn't exactly leave them on the best of terms and I guess they took it a bit harder than I thought," Blaine said haltingly.

"And he called you a junkie because...?" Puck prompted.

"I am," Blaine finished resignedly. "Or, I was. I've had a drug problem since I was 12. I went to rehab when I was 14, but it obviously didn't work. I relapsed last summer and at the beginning of the year, at Dalton, I was pretty messed up. I really let the Warblers down. I was supposed to be lead soloist for sectionals, actually, but I just … stopped going to rehearsals. I was too busy trying to get my next fix. The school expelled me when they found out I'd been using so that's why I ended up at McKinley when I got out of rehab."

"Dude," Puck breathed. "You are _way_ more badass than I thought!"

Blaine was glad that Puck wasn't reacting badly, but the same couldn't be said for all the New Directions. Rachel, Mercedes, and Finn all looked rather wary and nervous.

"What about the … other stuff he said?" Quinn asked hesitantly.

Blaine looked seriously pained at that, so Kurt gently squeezed his hand. "I told you guys before that I used to hook up with guys all the time. Well, mostly it was so I didn't have to pay for the drugs."

"Wait, so you were like a _whore?_" Santana asked, aghast.

Blaine shrugged.

"What were you on?" Of course it was Puck again.

"What wasn't I on?" Blaine replied bitterly. "I started off just with weed. I tried E a few times, and that stuff was pretty fucking great. I did a lot of coke, and crack when I had to actually pay since that was cheaper. I tried acid once, and I will _never _do that again. That was seriously scary shit. The big one was smack. Heroin. That was the worst. I mean, it was the absolute best. The rush I'd get – but I built up a tolerance to it really fast, so I was stealing money from my parents almost daily and letting anyone and anything fuck me just to get a little more of the hard stuff."

Blaine began to unbutton his sleeves and he rolled them up for his friends to see. Everyone gasped when they say the scars and the shriveled vein that was valiantly trying to pump blood through Blaine's body.

"How'd you stop?" Tina asked.

"The first time, I was arrested for buying and possession. I got off with community service if I agreed to give them my dealer and go to rehab, so I did. But I hadn't wanted to go and I had no support at home, so I relapsed a year later. Then I OD'd. I was forced to rehab _again_ and now I'm five months sober."

"Thank you for sharing, Blaine," Mr. Schuester said. "But I need you to know that if you ever relapse again, you won't be allowed back on the team until you're sober."

"I understand, sir," Blaine said politely. "But I don't intend to ever go back to being that person."

The group gathered together for a long hug before Blaine's phone started ringing.

"Crap," he said. "I told Coop I'd head home. He probably thinks I'm back there or something. Hello?" he said, holding the phone to his ear.

"Where the hell are you, Blaine? It should not take you this long to get back unless you made a stop. And for your sake I hope you didn't because I will flay your high little ass until you -"

"Coop, I'm still at the school. With Kurt. Do you want to talk to him again?"

Blaine passed the phone without waiting for Cooper's answer.

"Hi Cooper," Kurt greeted. "Yeah, sorry about that. Blaine and I headed back inside to talk with our team … Of course. Yeah, I'll make him call you when he leaves. Bye, Cooper!"

Kurt laughed when he ended the call and handed the phone back to Blaine.

"He is going to be so much worse than before, isn't he?" Blaine groaned.


	8. Chapter 8

(Part 10 on Tumblr)

**a/n: I'm going to be taking a break from this story for a little while. With finals, working full time, packing, and then moving abroad, I've got a bit too much on my plate. Don't worry, I'll still write in my free time, but it will not be enough for me to get chapters out. Maybe a month or so?**

* * *

Once they returned to school, things seemed to return to normal. Which, Blaine supposed, he should probably be thankful for. But 'normal' included his relationship with Kurt which hadn't progressed at all since the kiss.

Blaine was too nervous to talk to Kurt about it, fearing that the boy had changed his mind after being given time to think. But after almost two weeks, Blaine decided to bite the bullet.

"Uh, Kurt?" he asked after rehearsal one day. "Can I talk to you?"

"Of course!" Kurt said brightly.

Blaine led him to an empty classroom, and Kurt watched expectantly. After a moment, Blaine exhaled.

"Can you not stare at me like that? It makes me nervous, and when I'm nervous I start to crave."

"Oh, oh my God, I'm so sorry, Blaine," Kurt hurried to apologize.

"No, it's fine. I'm just being stupid. I've never really done this before, see."

"Done what?"

"Kurt, would you maybe like to go out on a date with me this weekend?"

Kurt's face immediately brightened. "Yeah," he answered shyly. "I'd really like that."

"Really?" Blaine asked, once again thrown off by Kurt.

"Yes, silly. I'd love to go on a date with you."

"Great. Perfect. I guess – I'll pick you up around six?"

"Sounds perfect."

* * *

When Kurt answered the door, he invited Blaine inside. "My dad wants to meet you," he explained.

"Are you sure, Kurt? I don't exactly make good first impressions," Blaine said, scratching his arms uneasily.

"He's going to love you," Kurt assured Blaine. "Anyway, he doesn't know anything about that stuff, and you don't have to tell him."

Burt asked Blaine a few questions about school and Dalton, which Blaine answered as minimally as possible. Finally, the man seemed to decide that Blaine was acceptable, because he guided the two boys to the door and wished them a happy evening as they drove off.

Kurt was nervous and fidgety the whole time, and Blaine finally couldn't take it anymore.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I'm just – nervous, I guess. I mean, I've never done this before. This is my first date. And now you must think I'm just some bumbling idiot."

"Kurt, no," Blaine said gently. "Stop. I don't think you're an idiot. This is my first date, too." At Kurt's look of shock, Blaine laughed bitterly. "I've never exactly been someone's boyfriend. Just their hookup... or their whore. But that's not really first date conversation, is it?"

Oddly, Kurt looked ashamed that he'd forced Blaine to bring up that topic at all. Blaine was reminded once again just how lucky he was to have found this boy.

* * *

They kissed at the door at the end of the date, and Kurt walked inside in a daze, wondering how his life could have ever become _this_. Finn was, oddly, waiting for Kurt in the living room with a concerned expression on his face.

"How was your date?" he asked.

"Perfect," Kurt replied dreamily.

"He didn't try anything, did he?"

"What are you talking about, Finn?"

"Like, he didn't try to pressure you into doing anything, right?"

"Of course not. Does Blaine really strike you as the type?"

"I don't know, Kurt. I don't trust the guy. I mean, how do you know he's clean?"

"I trust him, Finn. Which is what he really needs from all of us – from all his _friends_. You don't know him at all."

"I'm just saying, it's dangerous to get involved with an addict."

"He's _not_ an addict Finn!"

"Not anymore, Kurt! Look, I'm just trying to be here for you, okay?"

"I don't need your protection, Finn. I can handle this on my own," Kurt responded haughtily.

"Just – be safe, okay?" Finn said earnestly.

"Of course I will, Finn. But I have nothing to worry about. Blaine really doesn't want to go back there."

Finn was silent for a moment, battle raging in his head. He finally decided to bite the bullet. He knew that Kurt would hate him for what he was about to ask, but he had to do it.

"Is he like _clean_?" Finn asked. "I mean, like _down there_?"

Kurt pinked. "Finn Hudson!"

"Sorry, dude, but he said that he kinda just let guys have their way with him. Who knows what he could have picked up."

Kurt didn't reply. Honestly, he had never even thought of that as a possibility before. "I – I think so," he responded faintly.

"Be safe," Finn instructed, getting up from the couch. "I'm gonna go to bed. Night, dude."

Kurt flopped on the couch, suddenly much more tired than he had been before, the elated sensation long gone.

From the kitchen, Burt Hummel sat in a shocked silence.

* * *

Sunday morning, Burt made sure that Carole and Finn were out of the house for a few hours, then he cornered Kurt.

"Hey kiddo. How was your date last night?"

"It was great, dad. Really great. I mean, I thought I'd have to wait until college to go on my first real date, but... It was perfect."

"So this Blaine kid. He transferred from Dalton?" Burt asked, trying to approach the conversation indirectly.

"Yes," Kurt answered, already growing suspicious.

"Why? You said he still lives in Westerville, so why would a kid choose to transfer out of a school like _that_?"

Kurt glared at his father. "What are you implying, dad?"

"Look, kid, I trust you and your judgement for the most part. That's why I didn't grill the kid too hard last night. But I know how exciting it must be for you to meet another gay kid, and I just don't want to see you getting hurt."

Kurt waited, knowing that his father wasn't done talking.

"And I heard Finn say some things last night, and frankly, they made me really uncomfortable."

"You were _eavesdropping _on me?"

"This is my house, Kurt, I can listen to whatever conversation I want to. _Especially_ when it involves my son's safety. So I'm gonna ask you again, what's wrong with this kid?"

"He didn't transfer from Dalton exactly. He was expelled," Kurt began with a sigh. He only hoped that Burt would be able to keep his head as the entire story spilled out.

* * *

"Hi," Kurt said nervously as he approached Blaine at his locker Monday morning.

"Hey there," Blaine responded, a contented smile gracing his features. "How was your weekend?"

"Pretty fantastic actually," Kurt shot back. "But then my dad wanted to talk to me. Turns out he overheard Finn say some stuff and now … he wants to talk to you."

Blaine immediately panicked. "Kurt … your father is probably going to kill me! I can't meet him knowing that he knows!"

"Well, if you want to see if we can have an actual relationship, then you're going to have to," Kurt said definitively.

Blaine looked like he wanted to run away and hide, but he took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine. But don't expect this to go well. Other than you and Puck, no one has ever responded anywhere close to positively."

"Then I guess we'll have to take advantage of the time we have," Kurt whispered, sending Blaine a seductive glance before turning quickly and walking off to first period.

* * *

Blaine knew he was acting differently all day. He was nervous and jumpy, constantly on guard. At lunch, Puck even went so far as to accuse him of being on something.

"No, it's not that," Blaine said when a hush fell over the table. "I'm just nervous to talk to Kurt's dad."

"Dude, meeting the parents?" Puck laughed. "Good luck with that."

"Well, I already me him. But that was before he knew about … stuff. So now he wants to talk about that, I guess."

Puck let out a low whistle. "Well I wish you all the best with that man. Hey, maybe the glee club can sing at your funeral!"

Blaine paled while Kurt punched Puck in the shoulder.

"Shut up, he's scared enough already," Kurt hissed at the wincing boy.

"Dude, your dad's scary. He should be worried."

"First off, _don't_ call me dude," Kurt replied self-righteously. "And secondly, my dad is not scary. And he's _not _going to kill Blaine."

Blaine still wasn't convinced.

* * *

Kurt drove both Finn and Blaine to the Hummel-Hudson house in a tense silence that afternoon. Ever oblivious and slightly uncomfortable, Finn kept making jokes and attempting to start a conversation. After the third time that Kurt snapped at him, however, he seemed to understand and stayed silent for the rest of the ride.

From his seat behind Kurt, Blaine stared wistfully out the window. He really liked Kurt. This was nothing like Tom or the countless other men he'd hooked up with before. But this was going to be the one relationship – if the others could even be counted as relationships – that would be over before it was started. Blaine was sure of that. Burt was a good man. He wouldn't want his son dating a junkie.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Blaine asked before stepping out of the unmoving car.

"Do you want a second date?" Kurt countered.

Blaine quieted and jumped out of the Navigator.

Finn fled upstairs to his room the moment he entered the house, not wanting to be any part of the conversation that was about to happen. So when Kurt and Blaine entered moments later, Burt was waiting for them in the front room.

"Hey dad," Kurt said. When he went up to hug the older man, he whispered, "_Be nice_," in his ear so that Blaine couldn't hear.

"Hi Mr. Hummel," Blaine said. "It's nice to – uh – to see you again."

Burt grunted slightly and nodded at Blaine. "Want to give us a moment, Kurt?" he asked pointedly of his son.

"Dad," Kurt warned, "I really think I should be here -"

"_Kurt_."

"Fine." Kurt, obviously unhappy with the new arrangements, turned on his heel and stalked off to his bedroom noisily.

"Have a seat, kid," Burt instructed.

Blaine lowered himself into the chair across from Burt and studied the man's hands, waiting for him to talk.

"So. It seems you left out a few details when we spoke on Saturday."

"I'm sorry, sir," Blaine said quickly. "I didn't mean to lie, but I really, _really_ like Kurt, and I _swear_, that's not me anymore!"

"Slow down, kid," Burt said. "I just want to talk. I'm not going to bite your head off."

Blaine looked like he didn't quite believe him – _Smart kid, _Burt thought – but he did lean back ever so slightly in his chair.

* * *

Kurt stood at the top of the steps for quite a long time, trying to distinguish any words from the low mumble coming from downstairs.

"What are you doing?"

Kurt practically jumped out of his skin. He turned around and rested a hand over his racing heart only to find Finn standing a few feet behind him.

"Jesus, Finn, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Dude, you told me that I walk like a herd of elephants and it's therefore impossible for me to ever do any sneaking," Finn said in an almost exact quote of what Kurt had snapped at him only a few days earlier. "So what gives? How's it going down there?"

"If only I knew," Kurt said wistfully. "They kicked me out right away, and I haven't been able to hear them well enough from up here."

"Wait – you were _eavesdropping_?" Finn grinned widely.

"Shut up, Finn Hudson. I still have plenty of dirt on you. Plus, this conversation affects me too!"

"Chill out, Kurt. Tell you what. I was going to make myself a grilled cheese -"

"Finn, it's almost dinner time."

"- so when I'm in the kitchen," Finn said loudly, talking right over Kurt's objections, "I can try to hear what's going on. Okay?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Fine. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I am for once glad for your endless pit of a stomach."

Finn grinned before loping down the stairs. He tried to be as quiet as possible in the kitchen so he could hear better, but then that plan backfired when his sandwich started to burn because he hadn't been paying attention. So he only had a small amount of information to report to Kurt when he went back upstairs ten minutes later.

"It sounded pretty normal," Finn said. "Burt was asking Blaine about school and stuff. They weren't talking about drugs or anything."

"So they sounded like they were getting along fine?"

"I guess."

"You're the best!" Kurt shouted, launching himself at Finn and engulfing the larger boy in a tight hug.

"Yeah, uh – no problem," a thoroughly nonplussed Finn replied.

* * *

Blaine was confused. Burt had asked him about his past drug abuse, and he had revealed almost everything, sparing only explicit details. Then, Burt had nodded and asked Blaine if he liked football. Almost as if the boy hadn't just told the father of his boyfriend that he was a recovering addict.

But Blaine played along, and soon he found himself really enjoying the conversation with Burt. He was so completely different from Kurt, and yet Blaine couldn't help but notice small similarities between the two men.

After a good half hour, broken only by a pungent smell of smoke in the kitchen while Finn had tried to make himself a sandwich, Burt paused and smiled.

"I'm sure you're bored of talking to me by now," he said.

"What – uh -" Blaine stuttered.

"Go on up. I'm sure Kurt's dying to talk to you."

Blaine stared at the man. "What?"

"Do you not want to talk to Kurt?"

"Wha – no, of course I do, I just – you're okay? I mean, I can see him?"

"Well, yeah. Why not?"

"I just told you that I used to mess around with guys so I could get my hands on drugs and you're letting me go see your son?" Blaine asked.

"Look, kid, I trust Kurt's judgement. He said you were done with that stuff, so I believe him. You seem like a really great kid, too, who just had some bad stuff happen. Until you do anything to break my trust, I'm okay with you seeing Kurt."

"Really?" Blaine's face looked like it was about to crack in half because his grin was so large. "I just – I mean, thanks. Thank you so much, sir. I swear, I won't mess this up!"

Burt just smiled as he watched Blaine bound upstairs to find Kurt.


	9. Chapter 9

The glee club was not having a good week. First, Finn broke Rachel's nose while trying to dance and failing miserably. Then Rachel decided to go crazy and get a nose job rather than keep the Barbra nose that she was so proud of. Suddenly, everyone was fighting about the pros and cons of plastic surgery. And then, when everything was already a whirlpool of color and noise and confusion, Lauren Zizes managed to dredge up the most surprising gossip the school had encountered thus far – and on a supposedly clean (relatively speaking – since all her dirty laundry had been pretty public in the past) subject: Quinn Fabray.

So Blaine was less than surprised when the final piece of shit hit the fan. That piece of shit, of course, being him.

In the month or so since he'd joined glee club, the rumors about his transfer had finally died down and been replaced with gossip about his new relationship with Kurt (the two boys had been sighted having a romantic dinner at Breadstix! Blaine opened to door for Kurt when they got out of the car at the movie theatre! The rare "teenage gays" breathe, eat, walk, talk, do normal things!). A slew of relationship mishaps and Quinn's less-than-glamorous past had also worked to cover up any remaining mystery and curiosity surrounding the Dalton transfer student.

And then one day, no one was talking about Lucy Caboosey. There were whispers and shouts that died suddenly the second that Blaine stepped into a hall and were replaced with wide-eyed stares and pointed fingers.

Jacob Ben Israel, of course, was the only one with the balls (or perhaps lack thereof) to approach Blaine at all.

He was walking to his chemistry class, having just said goodbye to Kurt at the older boy's English classroom, when a short, bushy head shoved itself in front of him and began attacking him with a microphone.

"Geez, buzz off!" he said irritably. "What do you want, JBI?"

"Blaine Anderson," the boy said in his wheezy voice, trying to sound more important and brave than he really was. "Recently we have been informed of the reasons behind your sudden transfer to McKinley almost two months ago. Care to comment?"

"Like I've said before. It's none of your damn business," Blaine said. He tried to shove the blogger to the side, but Jacob was persistent.

"Does the glee club know what kind of vermin they have allowed into their ranks?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your less than _clean _past," Jacob replied triumphantly.

Blaine was struck dumb. Speechless. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied in a shaky voice.

"Oh, I think you do," Jacob replied. "So tell me, Blaine Anderson, is it true that you've been to rehab _twice _for drug abuse?"

Panic set in and Blaine was about to really begin shouting at the annoying boy when a comforting hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Move on, Jacob," a warm voice said. "Or I'll tell Coach Sylvester that you've still got those videos of her on your computer."

Jacob turned a deep shade of red before turning and running away.

Blaine turned to his savior to find Mike, a quiet junior from glee club. Although the two boys had never spoken, Mike had always been one of the least judgmental people in the choir room.

"Thanks for that, man," Blaine said gratefully.

"No problem. We protect our own in the glee club."

Blaine smiled as Mike patted him on the back and continued fighting his way through the crowded hallways.

Even with the rest of the glee club's support, however, the damage was done.

Everywhere he went, Blaine was on the receiving end of stares and nasty remarks about his past. Suddenly, Lucy Caboosey was unimportant because there was a real live junkie in their midst. And he could slip much more easily than Quinn Fabray. Plus, he was already scratching at the heavily constructed walls of "proper decorum" at McKinley – because gay _is not _okay.

And then a few days later, the comments became too much. Blaine was changing in the locker room before PE when someone roughly grabbed his arm and twisted it around.

"God, look at that," a low voice commented. "It's disgusting."

Blaine pulled his arm away and finished pulling his sweatshirt over his torso. "Get lost," he warned in a low voice.

"Aww, come on, we're just playing around," the boy teased. "You know, maybe you should join the other lowlifes under the bleachers where you belong."

Blaine rolled his eyes at the casual mention of the Skanks and stoners. "Fuck off," he said as he began to walk away.

"But then again, no one at this school would come near your dick with a ten-foot pole, and I hear that's the only way you like to get your drugs."

Blaine froze and turned around very slowly. "What did you just say?"

"Come on, Anderson, we all know you're nothing more than some low-life whore who fucks for drugs."

"Say that again. Say it again, man, I _dare _you."

"You better keep your sick body away from me and everyone else at this school if you know what's good for you," the boy snarled.

That was it. Something snapped within Blaine after the days of taunts thrown all around him. Those were the words that sealed the deal.

Something akin to a snarl grew deep within and exploded from Blaine's throat as he threw himself at the other boy. He didn't care what happened, he just wanted every inch of that boy's skin to be in pain. He didn't even hear the sharp blasts of the whistle or feel the strong arms wrestling himself off of the other boy until it was all too late.

"Anderson – main office. Now!" Coach Beiste shouted.

* * *

Blaine was in the glass-enclosed waiting room before Figgins' office nursing a black eye with an ice pack when Cooper came charging through the doors.

"What were you thinking, Blaine? Getting in a fight on school grounds? _Seriously?_"

"Can it, Coop," Blaine said tiredly. "I get it, alright?"

"No, Blaine, I don't think you do 'get it.' Because if you 'got it' you would be worshipping at my feet right now because I was the one who answered the phone at home and I haven't yet told mom and dad what you did!"

"So what! It's not like they care!" Blaine countered.

"Blaine, they might be shit for parents, but that doesn't mean they've got shit for brains. Did you listen to nothing they said to you back at the hospital? You mess up one more time and they're sending you off to military school!"

"Wh-what?" Blaine asked, sobering up immediately.

"Yeah. So you better work on all the schmoozing you're planning to keep me from telling them."

Blaine nodded fervently as he and Cooper were called into the office.

* * *

"Mr. Anderson, you have to know that we will not tolerate any more of this kind of behavior," Principal Figgins said. "If you repeat these infractions, I'm sorry, but we will have no choice but to expel you. As is, I am being incredibly lenient right now. Violence of any kind is not allowed in the halls of McKinley. Therefore, you are suspended for two days starting tomorrow. Anything else I can help you gentlemen with today?"

"No sir," Cooper answered. "And thank you, sir. I can promise that this won't happen again. I will be keeping a very close eye on Blaine."

Cooper led Blaine into the hallway where students were running off to their classes. He gave Blaine a significant look before walking.

"In case it wasn't already obvious, you're grounded until you turn gray," he shouted over his shoulder.

Blaine rolled his eyes, hitched up his backpack, and began his trek to the choir room.

He was only a few minutes late when he walked in, but still got instant attention for the black eye that he was newly sporting. Kurt ran up to Blaine to see if he was okay, but Blaine just waved off his injury and pretended like it wasn't smarting as much as it really was.

Mr. Schuester cleared his throat to reclaim the club's attention and Blaine looked to the front to see Miss Pillsbury and something large and covered at the front of the room as well.

"Alright guys," Mr. Schuester said to the gathered students, attempting to keep his usual enthusiasm up. "I know morale has been pretty low in here lately." Everyone side glanced to Rachel's bandaged nose, Blaine's black eye, and Quinn's tear-streaked face. "But," Schue continued, "Miss Pillsbury and I have come up with what I think is a great solution. All of you have been having trouble seeing just how amazing you are, warts and all. So for this week's assignment, I want you all to choose that one part about you that you hate the most, and instead choose to celebrate it."

"I still don't get why Miss P's here," Puck observed.

"That's the second part of the assignment. After choosing your flaw, you'll diplay it proudly on a t-shirt, made with this machine," and here Mr. Schue pulled away the sheet to reveal a screening machine, "and then we're going to wrap the week up with the queen of acceptance herself, Lady Gaga."

Kurt looked like he was about to faint with excitement at the prospect of singing Gaga. Blainen just shifted in his seat. It was obvious that more than a few members of the glee club were uncomfortable with the assignment.

* * *

Blaine objected to Cooper's strip-search much less than usual when he returned home that afternoon.

"Don't think good behavior is going to get you off early," Cooper warned.

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine replied. "Night, Coop."

"'Night?' It's barely 5!"

"Fine. Evening, Coop, I'm going to take a nap now. I've had a bit of a long day." With that, Blaine stormed upstairs and collapsed on his bed for the next 13 hours.

When his alarm began blaring at 6 am, Blaine began to roll out of bed when he remembered – he was suspended, and therefore didn't have to get up at an ungodly hour of the morning. Instead, he rolled over and went back to sleep.

Only to be reawakened moments later by a cold splash of water from Cooper.

"What the fuck, Coop?" Blaine mumbled. "I'm in _bed_."

"Yeah, because you were suspended for fighting at school. Which means that today and tomorrow are _not _rewards. So get up, get dressed, and be downstairs in 30 minutes. You're cleaning out the garage and attic today."

* * *

When Blaine finally returned to school after his two days of suspension, the crumbling brick walls and menacing jocks never looked more welcoming.

"So, how was your vacation?" Kurt asked while waiting at Blaine's locker before classes began.

"This is it," Blaine replied, frustration evident in his tone. "Cooper has gone full Hitler on me. No phone, limited computer, no car except school. And I'm going to be cleaning every inch of the house until the day I die. I swear, I think my parents have the better option."

"And that is …?"

"Military school."

Kurt punched Blaine in the shoulder, eliciting a gasp of shock and faint pain from the shorter boy.

"What was that for?" Blaine exclaimed.

"You better not leave me here, Blaine Anderson."

Despite being on the receiving end of Kurt's anger, Blaine couldn't help but feel a nice warmth spread through his body at Kurt's words. Kurt wanted him.

"It's not like I want to go," Blaine said instead, choosing to be defensive. "I was just joking. Chill out, Kurt."

"Fine," Kurt huffed, obviously annoyed. "Have you thought about the glee project yet? You do know we're doing the number tonight."

Blaine groaned. "Don't remind me."

"Why not? I think it's great."

"Well of course _you _do. You don't have any obnoxious or glaring character flaws. Plus, you get to sing Lady Gaga."

"What are you talking about, Blaine? Everyone has something they'd like to change or something that sets them apart from the rest."

"What's yours then? 'One Hair Fell Out of Place This Morning'?" Blaine mocked.

"Why are you being like this, Blaine?"

"Like what?"

"Acting like _I'm _the enemy. In case you've already forgotten, _I'm on your side_, Blaine," Kurt said before pulling his books to his chest and stalking away.

Blaine wanted to shout after Kurt – he knew he'd been purposely riling Kurt up. He was just so frustrated and had nothing to take it out on. Nothing but the one person he felt most comfortable and safe around.

* * *

Kurt successfully avoided Blaine until glee rehearsal after school that day. When Blaine walked up to him, sweatshirt zipped to his chin, Kurt gave him a warning glare.

"Look, Kurt, I'm sorry about earlier," Blaine began. "I just hate that people are always judging me for my past and I was annoyed so I took it out on you. And that was so wrong."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed bluntly. "It was."

"I almost had my shirt say 'Giant Idiot,'" Blaine admitted with a small chuckle.

"What did you go with instead?"

"You'll just have to wait and see, just like everyone else."

* * *

When the group gathered together after their performance, panting from exertion and grinning widely, the huddle quickly turned into a sweaty, jumbled hug that threatened Blaine's ribs a bit more than he was comfortable with.

Kurt caught Blaine's eye when they all finally pulled apart. The curly haired boy winked at Kurt as the "Likes Boys" shirt came into view.

"So," Blaine said, trying to feign a casual air. "You like boys?"

"One in particular," Kurt responded with a wide grin as he pulled Blaine towards him for a kiss.

"Good. I'm glad I don't have to be jealous of anyone," Blaine said. He began to fidget with the hem of his shirt as he and Kurt pulled apart. Everything about the outfit was making him uncomfortable and self-conscious. It was short sleeved, showing off all his scars, and emblazoned across the chest in large letters that anyone could see was the word "Junkie."

Kurt noticed where Blaine's attentions fell immediately. "I hate that word," he said. "I feel like it's just you trying to tear yourself down so others can't do worse than you've already done to yourself. But you need to embrace it, Blaine. Be brave. Be proud of what you've accomplished."

Blaine blushed at all the praise Kurt was showering upon him. "You really think so?"

Kurt nodded.

"So what would you call me then?"

"A survivor."

* * *

The rest of the New Directions were already gone or almost done changing, but Blaine and Kurt were still a few minutes behind.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked when he noticed Blaine was standing behind him, staring into the floor, and fidgeting.

"No, nothing, I just ..." Blaine stuttered. He then took a deep breath and began speaking again. "Know how I go to NA meetings every month?"

Kurt nodded but said nothing, hoping to let Blaine gather the courage to speak himself.

"Well, the meeting's in just over a week – last Tuesday in May. And I was hoping – I mean, I'm going to be getting my six month sobriety pin then, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come? I mean, it's nothing special, just a bunch of addicts in the basement of a church, but we could – I don't know – get ice cream or something after?

Kurt almost laughed at Blaine's nerves. Instead he took Blaine's hands to catch the other boy's attention.

"I'd be honored," Kurt whispered before leaning forward to catch Blaine's lips in a gentle kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt wasn't sure what to expect when he followed Blaine and Cooper into the basement of Good Shepherd Church in Westerville. It was brightly lit by fluorescent lights and there was a circle of wooden chairs behind a table of weak coffee and stale cookies. Blaine skipped the meager refreshments and went straight to take a seat.

There were a dozen people in the group on average. Most, like Blaine, came every month. Others, those who struggled with sobriety more or who had been clean longer, only popped in every so often.

A woman stood up from her seat in the circle and began the meeting. A few others later stood up and spoke about recent struggles, temptations, and triumphs. When the clock registered only fifteen minutes left, the first woman – whom Kurt assumed to be the leader – stood again.

"Today," she began, "we are celebrating a very important accomplishment by one of our own. Today, Blaine is six months sober."

Kurt smiled and joined in the group's applause while Blaine stood and flushed with pride. He walked to the woman who gently pinned the disc on his collar.

"Do you want to say anything, Blaine?" she asked.

Blaine nodded. "Well, this is actually my second time here," Blaine began. "The first time, I was barely 14 and I had just started high school. But I didn't have anyone to help me, and nine months later, I was back in my old habits. But this time, I think it's going to stick. I've had my trouble, and I've almost fallen more than once, but this time I have a reason to stay sober. This time, I have my brother watching out for me, a great group of friends, and an amazing boyfriend. So, here's to never getting a six month pin again. Here's to the number only getting higher. No pun intended."

Kurt flushed slightly at the shoutout and laughed at Blaine's joke before joining in the second round of applause. He looked over to Cooper and saw the man wearing a proud smiled and wiping a tear away – a fact which he resolutely denied later.

When Blaine returned to his seat, he embraced his brother tightly before threading his fingers through Kurt's and mouthing, "Thank you."

The meeting ended at seven. Most people stayed behind to chat for a while afterwards, many coming up to congratulate Blaine, but they managed to leave by quarter after seven.

"Now, I'm sure you two already have plans, so I'm not gonna try to crash them," Cooper told the two teenagers when they emerged into the cool night. "But there will be a celebratory dinner for this at some point, alright?"

"As long as you don't do the cooking, Cooper," Blaine said, "that sounds like a plan."

Kurt tried to hide his snickers as Cooper adopted a hurt expression.

"I'm not that bad," an affronted Cooper exclaimed.

Before Blaine could retort, a snort escaped Kurt's nose. He slapped his hands over his quickly reddening face in embarrassment.

"Et tu, Kurt?"

"Cooper, every time I've been to your house and you've attempted cooking, I've smelled burning or seen a fire. Even when all you had to do was microwave something."

"Well, how was I supposed to know you're not supposed to put tin foil in the microwave? Or metal in general?"

"Common sense, Coop," Blaine said.

Kurt nodded in agreement. "It's just something everyone knows, regardless of whether they know anything about cooking or not. Just like I know the Cubs will never win a World Series despite the fact that baseball is how I would describe the seventh circle of hell."

Both Cooper and Blaine stared open-mouthed at Kurt for a long moment. Finally, Cooper spoke. "So you're saying that because you know something about baseball, I should know something about microwaves?"

* * *

"So how does it feel to be six months sober?" Kurt asked.

"Really good," Blaine answered honestly. "I mean, I don't think I'll ever stop craving but this time … I actually want to be where I am. I really like how my life has turned out, even if I took an unconventional route, to say the least."

"Well, I'm not going to say that I'm happy you pumped your body full of poison for such a long time, but it is what brought us together, and I'll never want to change that," Kurt replied.

Blaine nodded along absently as Kurt moved on to a new topic – something about dresses perhaps? He was having trouble concentrating on anything other than the way Kurt's tongue gently caressed the side of his cone as he caught a melted dribble of pistachio ice cream. It had been ages since Blaine had done anything like _that –_ just over six months, to be exact – and he _was _a teenage boy, after all. Teenage boys are notoriously horny.

"Blaine? Blaine!"

"Huh – what?" Blaine said, jarred from his daydreams about Kurt's tongue.

"Were you paying attention to _anything_ I just said?" Kurt asked. His face appeared annoyed, but there was no hint of exasperation in his voice. Yet.

"Um, yes?"

"Really? What did I just say?"

Blaine made a split-second decision to not take the snarky route and tell Kurt that he'd just been asking if Blaine was listening. Instead, he ventured a guess about one of Kurt's favorite topics. "Um, something about the new McQueen collection?"

Kurt's features softened and Blaine was shocked to realize he must have been at least partly correct. "Well, there _had _been something before that," Kurt said in a subdued tone.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if you'd maybe want to come to junior prom with me?"

"Prom," Blaine repeated tonelessly.

"Yeah. I mean, you only get one junior prom, so I'd love if I could bring my amazing boyfriend along. Plus, I was looking at some of the new McQueen designs, and I think I know what suit I want to make."

Blaine decided to tackle the less sensitive topic first. "You're _making _your suit?"

"Of course. Nowhere in Lima sells anything suitable for a fashionable young man such as myself."

"You never cease to amaze me, Kurt Hummel."

"So, will that be a yes then?" Kurt asked hopefully.

"I don't know, Kurt," Blaine said. "I mean – prom? Really?"

"What? It's one of those unforgettable high school moments."

"You don't think it's a bit – cliched?" Blaine asked.

"It's a cliché for a reason. Plus, you _know_ I love those cheesy movies."

"And you really want to spend an evening in the McKinley gym with all the homophobic jocks, sweating from being pushed up against strangers, and listening to really crappy music?"

Kurt nodded.

"And you want me to go with you? And dance with you in front of everyone?"

Kurt nodded again.

"Okay."

Kurt squealed happily and went back to slurping his ice cream, effectively killing Blaine's concentration for the rest of the evening.

* * *

As Blaine pulled on his plain black suit, he thought about the last school dance he'd been to. It had been about a month before the end of 8th grade – a farewell dance for all the graduates.

A few hours before the dance had started, Blaine had been hidden in his bathroom, shooting up, and preparing a bottle of vodka to bring to liven up the party.

He couldn't remember much else about that night, but he knew he called Tom before the evening was up and ended up in the other boy's bed.

Blaine knew there was another cheesy movie cliché about couples popping their cherries on prom night. He didn't let himself get his hopes up too high, though. Kurt was too good of a guy to give it up in some cheap motel room after prom. Plus, they hadn't even progressed to shirtless making out.

Blaine groaned in frustration as he got up to grab a few tissues and lock the bedroom door.

* * *

Blaine spent a few tense minutes with Burt Hummel as he waited for Kurt to finish dressing. Although Burt hadn't made any mention of Blaine's past since their talk a few weeks back, Blaine couldn't help but feel unworthy around the man.

Burt, it seemed, possessed some of Kurt's keen senses, as he picked up on Blaine's discomfort quickly.

"Relax, kid. I'm not gonna pull out a shotgun or something," Burt said. "You seem like a really good kid, and you make my son happy. Until you do something to change either of those things, you're okay in my book."

"Thank you, Mr. Hum- Burt," Blaine quickly corrected. "And I just want to tell you that I really do respect Kurt and I will do everything I can to keep _both _of us away from that stuff. I don't want to lose Kurt."

"What about Kurt?" said boy asked, emerging from the stairs. Blaine's mouth grew dry as he took in all of Kurt's suit, from the clean-cut blazer all the way down to his legs. Damn. _Those legs_.

"You look – amazing," Blaine gasped, all other coherent thought driven from his mind.

"As do you," Kurt said, preening in pleasure from the compliment. "But your tie's crooked. Come here."

Blaine breathlessly walked up to Kurt while Burt excused himself from the room. As soon as he was gone, Kurt and Blaine were on each other. Blaine's hands traveled down to grab Kurt's ass, and the older boy jumped a bit at the new touch.

"Sorry," Blaine gasped insincerely. "I couldn't resist. You look so hot tonight."

A pleased but slightly embarrassed Kurt pulled back to lead the way into the living room to take pictures before heading off to Breadstix and then McKinley.

When they arrived at the dance and met up with the other New Directions, Puck caught Blaine's eye and waggled his brows.

"Your man has a nice set of legs there," Puck commented.

Apparently his words weren't quite quiet enough, because Kurt turned to him a moment later. "Were you just _checking me out_, Puckerman?"

Puck recovered quickly. "Just trying to relate to my man Anderson," Puck said. "So, are you two gonna blow this party off for your _own _fun later on?"

Kurt, surprisingly, was the one to respond. Even more surprising was his actual response.

"I guess we could try to fit you in, if that's what you're asking," Kurt said sharply before leading a chortling Blaine away from a spluttering and gobsmacked Puck. As Blaine felt Kurt's strong grip on his wrist, he could only imagine it elsewhere. He began to wonder if Kurt had said everything for Puck's sake, or if there really _would _be a later.

At that moment, a slow song began to play over the speakers, so Blaine held out his hand to Kurt. "May I have this dance?" he asked.

"Of course," Kurt replied. "I didn't think you'd slip into the role this easily, honestly. I do remember you calling prom 'stupid,' 'cheesy,' and 'an excuse for girls to slut it up.'"

"Would you prefer I act as my real, cynical, prom-hating self?" Blaine asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No," Kurt said firmly. "This is just really nice, that's all."

Blaine nodded and soon found himself lost in Kurt's clear eyes.

Several songs and one drink from the as-yet unspiked punch bowl later, Blaine and Kurt joined the crowd that was eagerly gathering to find out who had been chosen as prom royalty.

Kurt was absolutely smitten – he had a thing for royalty – but Blaine thought the whole thing was stupid and petty and it turned the already neurotic girls of glee club into absolute monsters.

But apparently, it transformed the anonymous school population into something much, much worse.

"Kurt Hummel."

The words echoed in Blaine's head and throughout the deathly silent room. The boy in question let out a strangled sob before rushing off.

"Kurt!" Blaine called, running after his boyfriend. "Kurt, wait! Please!"

He found Kurt sitting in a hallway a while later, but felt completely out of his depth as he tried to console the distraught boy. Eventually, Kurt gathered his courage, stood up, and accepted his crown.

When Blaine asked him to dance for a second time, this time in front of the entire school, all thoughts of what might happen after prom were far from his mind.


	11. Chapter 11

Cooper had been the New Directions' number one supporter during Blaine's entire – albeit brief – time as a member of the team. Which was why Blaine was so confused when Cooper seemed unsure about letting him go with the rest of his team to New York.

"I don't _actually _need your permission, Coop," Blaine said. "Mom and dad already signed the permission form."

"I know, Blainers, but it's a big city and I worry about you."

"Coop. I'm going to be with the New Directions _all the time_. I doubt we'll actually have any free time to do anything other than rehearse and compete."

"Still..." Cooper was still concerned for his baby brother.

"Look, Coop, Mr. Schue and a couple other teachers are going to be chaperoning. Want to talk to them?"

Cooper nodded and then froze. "God, I'm not turning into one of those helicopter parents, aren't I? And I'm not even a parent technically!"

Blaine laughed, but didn't contradict Cooper's statement.

* * *

Mr. Schue, as it turns out, was planning to host a meeting for all the parents a week before the departure for New York. He had all the travel details printed, as well as an itinerary and a list of about a dozen different numbers to call. Everything was planned to a T, and Cooper was nothing short of impressed.

After walking out the doors of the school, he began to think about calling his agent back in LA. It seemed like Blaine was in very capable hands in Lima.

* * *

From the moment the plane touched down in New York, Rachel and Kurt couldn't be contained. They were jumping and squealing over every little thing. Puck had hilariously imitated them by fawning over a pile of bird crap on the sidewalk, and Blaine would have laughed at the sight – if he hadn't been dating Kurt.

There was a considerable amount of clutter and bustle as they tried to organize the room situation before sitting down to write the new original songs. Mr. Schue mysteriously disappeared right away, rendering his earlier assurances moot. Blaine decided to leave that out when he would later recount the whole story to Cooper.

After some time – and quite a few lame ideas – spent cooped up in the hotel room, the New Directions decided that they needed to hit the streets of the city for inspiration.

Of course, 'inspiration' quickly turned into sightseeing and messing around.

The girls and Kurt split off at Times Square to admire the theatres and go shopping. Blaine and the other boys, however, opted to continue walking aimlessly. Puck led them all, hoping to 'scope out the hottest chicks' and perhaps find a bar that would let them in without fakes.

* * *

"Where _are _we?" Artie asked as he rolled over yet another dirty, discarded article of clothing that littered the much emptier sidewalk. It had been well over an hour since they'd left the girls behind in Manhattan, and the streets they walked down were getting progressively grungier, darker, and sketchier.

"Something's gotta be close now," Puck said. His words held even less comfort now than they had the first time he'd uttered them over half an hour ago.

"Puck, man, I think we should turn back," Mike advised. "I mean, there isn't even anyone around anymore."

There was a quiet shuffling just beyond the mouth of the alleyway that the boys were standing near, and all heads turned in that direction. The moment Blaine saw the man in the dark coat talking to the small, distressed, shivering man, he knew. But apparently, he was the only one.

"There's someone there!" Finn announced, ever the oblivious, happy-go-lucky, small-town boy. "Maybe they can tell us how to get back to the hotel."

"Finn," Blaine protested, "that's really not a good idea. I think – no, we _need _to get out of here. Right now."

"Yeah, that's what we're trying to do," Finn said, speaking slowly as if he was talking to a slow four-year-old.

"Yeah, but this isn't going to be any help," Blaine insisted.

"You never know until you try," Finn said, ignoring Blaine, and walking quickly over to where the alley met the sidewalk.

By this point, their conversation had attracted the attention of the two men in the shadows. While the smaller, frail man simply slipped his hands into his pockets and walked in the opposite direction, the man in the dark coat turned to face the New Direction boys. Blaine could almost feel the slight annoyance radiating off of the dealer – for that had to be what he was.

"Can I help you?" the man asked dangerously as he sized Finn up.

There was a small movement near the man's hands which Blaine didn't fail to catch, and he suddenly couldn't bring himself to care about Finn or where he was. He'd caught a glimpse of a small baggie of brownish powder cupped in the man's hand, and the urge, the desire, the hunger, the craving flared up inside of him.

It was so close, so easy. Blaine knew he had a few bills folded up in his wallet, given to him by Cooper 'in case of emergency,' but this could be so worth it, right? Just a little bit, and once he opened up his mind like that, the ideas for songs would come flowing like a river.

"Yeah, we – uh – we just need help getting back to out hotel," Finn said, trailing off weakly at the end as he realized that the man he was talking to was nowhere close to a model citizen.

"Are you sure that's what you boys want? I could get you a good time cheap."

"Wh-what?" Finn's eyes widened as he backed away. "No thanks, we'll just – uh, we'll just go. We don't want any of … that."

The other five glee boys began to back away, but Blaine was frozen in place. His mouth had gone dry and his palms were sweaty as he watched the man produce another bag of heroin.

"Speak for yourself, frankenteen," the man said before stepping toward Blaine. "I can see how bad you want this, kid," he said in a low voice. "How long has it been since your last hit? It hurts, don't it? Come on. No one needs to know. I'll even give you a deal, needle and all."

Blaine looked up at the dealer's face for the first time. He knew that his own eyes must be desperate with hunger. He so badly wanted to say yes, to reach out for that fine powder.

Blaine licked his lips, and then he began scratching at his elbow, where the track mark scars still marred his skin.

The dealer smiled. "If you don't have the cash, I'm sure we can work out a different … arrangement."

Blaine opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, when the others jumped to action. They had all realized that Blaine couldn't say no – but he didn't want to say yes, either.

"Hey, leave him alone!" Sam shouted.

"He doesn't need a low-life scum like you messing up his life," Puck snarled. "He's trying to make something of himself. So back off and stop preying on kids. That's just sick."

"Hey, he never said he didn't want it," the dealer said, but he still backed off some.

"Fine." Puck turned to Blaine. "Blaine, do you want whatever shit this guy is selling? Just remember that you're out 12th member, so we won't be allowed to compete without you and we all know Mr. Schue will kick you off when he hears about this. And that's _nothing _compared to what _Kurt _will do to you."

Kurt. The magic word. Blaine unfroze and took an unsteady step back. "Can – can we get out of here?" he asked in a shaky voice.

The other boys heaved a collective sigh of relief as they began to power walk in the opposite direction. Thirty minutes later, they found themselves in front of a Starbucks at the fringes of a nicer area. Blaine ordered the largest black coffee they offered and pretended to ignore the scared and worried glances he was getting from the others.

Caffeine might have been a bad idea. As soon as it hit his system, Blaine felt twitchy – almost as if he was tweaking. He kept scratching his scars, unconcerned that he would soon break skin.

Meanwhile, Sam pulled out his phone to call Mercedes. They girls, already worked up into a panic after only a few seconds of conversation, offered to meet them at the Starbucks or give them directions back to the hotel. At the very least, they also offered advice for dealing with what they were calling "the Blaine situation."

After one look at Blaine, Sam decided it was best that the girls didn't come and rile him up any more, so they set off a few minutes later with Rachel's directions.

When they arrived at the hotel, everyone was waiting for them in the lobby – including Mr. Schue. Blaine refused to make eye contact with anyone – especially Kurt – and gulped nervously when Mr. Schue asked for a moment's privacy.

They walked up to the hotel room in a strained silence. Once they were in the room, Blaine sunk down on the edge of one of the beds, uncomfortable and still, obviously scared.

"Want to tell me about this afternoon, Blaine?" Schue asked in a kinder voice than Blaine had been expecting.

"I didn't take anything, I swear!" Blaine exclaimed, not caring how guilty that made him sound.

"I know, Blaine. I talked to Mike. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. That can't have been easy, saying no."

Blaine blinked up at his teacher, voluntarily choosing to make eye contact with another person for the first time since encountering the dealer over two hours ago. "You're not – you're not mad?"

"No, Blaine, I'm proud of you. I'm proud that you've found something to motivate yourself to stay sober. And I want you to know that we're all here to help and support you. Now, are you _okay_?"

* * *

All the while that Blaine had been talking with Mr. Schue, the adjoining rooms had been suspiciously silent. Blaine figured that the others were scared of him and staying in the lobby. But when they finished talking and Mr. Schue opened the door to leave, Kurt was seated across the hall, clutching his phone tightly.

"What a surprise," Mr. Schue laughed upon finding the countertenor on the floor. "He's right inside, but I don't know if he feels up for talking."

"I figured," Kurt answered, hastily getting up. "I just had to try. Plus, the others are practicing the choreography downstairs, and it's all stuff that I know or that I do with Blaine, so I'm not needed there."

"I guess I should go supervise them then, and check up on our songs," Mr. Schue said before leaving the boyfriends some time alone.

"Are you okay?" Kurt said when he walked into the room and found Blaine still sitting on the edge of the bed.

Blaine nodded, not sure if he could trust himself to speak.

"I'm so, so proud of you, Blaine," Kurt said, walking over and gently embracing his boyfriend. "I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you."

"I never wanted anyone to see that," Blaine whispered, voice dangerously close to breaking.

"What?"

"Me. Like that. So weak and desperate – just the dirty addict rather than this guy you all seem to think I am."

"Blaine, that was not weak. Weak would have been giving in to the craving rather than walking away."

"Do you – do they still want me to hang around?" Blaine asked. Kurt's heart broke when he realized what Blaine was really asking – did Kurt still want Blaine. "Do you want me to quit glee club after nationals? I can if you – all are uncomfortable."

"No way!" Kurt said immediately, passionately. "I'm not letting you go that easily, Blaine Anderson. Same goes for the rest of the club, too. You're stuck with us forever now. I don't know how the Warblers worked, but we're a family. A freaky, incestuous family, but still a family. And families stick together and support each other."

Blaine smiled for the first time in quite a few hours. "Thanks, Kurt."

Kurt reached across the bed to put his hand on Blaine's thigh. "You do know what you have to do now, right?"

Blaine looked worried as he shook his head no.

"Call Cooper."

Blaine flopped back into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed and groaned. "Ugh. He'd never gonna let me go anywhere again!"

"That's not true, Blaine. He'll listen to you and realize that you wanted to walk away and that you _did _say no. Now, do you want me here for the call, or do you need some privacy?"

"Yes!" Blaine answered immediately. He charged at Kurt on the other side of the bed and held him down. "He likes you. He'll be much more level-headed if you're around."

Kurt agreed to stay with Blaine, but disagreed about the reason. He did not think Cooper was likely to read Blaine the riot act about this incident, considering Blaine walked away mostly on his own. Kurt was right, too. Cooper was proud of Blaine. He was still pissed, though – at Mr. Schue for letting the kids loose in a dangerous and unfamiliar city.

"I think I need to have a word with this man when you guys get back," Cooper said before wishing them luck and hanging up.

"It's nice to see him getting angry at someone else," Blaine commented lightly when he set his phone down.

"He doesn't get angry at you," Kurt said.

"You should have seen us as kids. Now it's just stress and disappointment. You're right, that's even worse."

Kurt just sighed. He knew that this wasn't going to be something that Blaine would just get over in a few minutes. As selfish as it sounded, however, Kurt hoped that Blaine's lackluster energy wouldn't influence their performance on the Nationals stage.

"We should probably go back downstairs and join rehearsal," Blaine said in the same empty voice. "I wouldn't put it past Rachel to murder us the second the competition is over if we're not perfect."

* * *

Blaine still felt off when the competition begs the next day. It certainly didn't help that everyone kept shooting him nervous looks and walking on eggshells around him.

He tried to channel his usual showmanship and energy when the New Directions took the stage. Although Blaine's performance was not up to par at all, neither was everyone else, and he was glad that he wasn't the reason the team lost a spot in the top 10. The roller coaster that is Finchel also seemed to draw attention from his own drug problem from everyone – except Kurt, of course.

"Are you _sure _you're okay?" Kurt asked Blaine as they trailed behind the group on their walk back to the hotel.

"Of course. I'm just disappointed that we didn't even break the top ten."

"No you're not," Kurt said. "I'm asking about before. Yesterday. And you're still not over that. I can tell, Blaine."

Blaine almost grinned in spite of himself. "I just – I thought I was done with that stuff. I mean, sure, I still get cravings sometimes, but I didn't think it'd be that hard to say no. Especially in front of all my friends. It's like I just forgot everything about the last six months and turned right back into that kid who'd do anything for his next fix."

"But you didn't."

"Kurt, I don't think you understand how _hard _that was! I mean, if it wasn't for Puck saying your name out loud, I'd've had to be dragged away forcibly. How … how much did Finn and the other guys tell you about what happened?"

Kurt was still caught up in hearing Blaine basically admit that _he _was the reason that Blaine hadn't taken the drugs, so the last question caught him a bit off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, did they tell you everything the guy said?"

"The dealer? I don't know, they just said he was trying to sell you drugs or something and you were kind of just frozen there."

Blaine sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face. "You know what I did before, right, Kurt? How I didn't always have the cash to pay for the stuff, so I'd let guys do whatever they wanted in exchange for drugs?"

Kurt winced a little at how bluntly Blaine was stating that. "Yeah..."

"Well, I don't know what it is about me, but the guy yesterday could tell. That's basically what he was offering. He said he'd give me the stuff if I went back with him for some fun. And I would have, Kurt. I remembered you and how much I love you and I love what we have, and I still would have gone with him!"

Kurt and Blaine were now completely out of eyesight and hearing range from the rest of the New Directions, for which Kurt was extremely grateful. He had no idea how to react to his boyfriend saying that he would have cheated on him for drugs.

"You love me?" Kurt said faintly.

"Wh-what?"

"You said that you remembered how much you loved me."

"Oh. I just – I mean – you don't have to -"

"I love you, too, Blaine."

"Really? Even after everything I just said?"

"You also said that hearing my name stopped you," Kurt added. "I think you're just trying to villianize yourself here."

"I'm not, Kurt. It's true. The abstract idea of you wasn't enough, I needed something more concrete, like Puck saying your name. I'm just so scared that at some point it's going to happen again and I won't have anyone or anything to stop me. I'm afraid I won't have you."

"I will always be here for you, Blaine," Kurt whispered.


	12. Chapter 12

Blaine, Rachel, and Finn hadn't been the only members off their game for Nationals, but they were the only ones who really flaunted it. Most members had been too preoccupied by the problems created by those three to even notice anyone else.

It was weeks before anyone did, and Blaine promised to not tell anyone else.

* * *

Cooper had announced his imminent departure for LA, so Blaine was rushing to put together an appropriate farewell/thank you for everything meal for his big brother. Kurt was going to come to the Anderson house in a few hours to help Blaine in the kitchen, but Blaine was on his own for the grocery shopping.

He slowly traveled up and down the aisles, trying to remember each item from the list Kurt had given him and kicking himself for leaving it at home.

Blaine began his way up the next aisle and was about to turn back since it held no food when he recognized the lone figure standing before the hair dye at the end of the aisle.

"Quinn?" Blaine asked, shock coloring his voice.

The newly short-haired girl turned around to scowl at Blaine, but he was too busy gaping at her appearance to notice. Quinn's look had undergone a complete 180 since the last day of school. No longer was she sporting sweet, pastel dresses. Now, her hair was messy, her clothes were dark and grungy, there were piercings across her face, and a tattoo on her back.

"What?" she drawled, voice low and bored.

"I was just – I mean, I saw – what happened?" Blaine finally forced out.

"What do you mean, Anderson?"

"I mean _this_. All this. It's not … you."

"You don't know me. I'm finally free to do what I want. So lay off, Anderson."

With that, Quinn turned on her combat boot-clad heel and walked away, but not before Blaine caught a glimpse of the box of hot pink hair dye in her hand.

Blaine was preoccupied with thoughts of the former cheerio as he finished shopping and drove home, but Cooper and Kurt quickly drove all thoughts of her from his mind.

* * *

At the airport the next day, Blaine and Cooper embraced tightly.

"Remember, squirt, call me if _anything _happens. I don't care how early or late it is, just call me, okay?"

"Yeah, Coop," Blaine responded. "I'm gonna be fine."

"And call Kurt or his father, too, if you need someone sooner."

"I _know,_ Coop," Blaine said, sighing as he pushed his brother toward the check in counter.

"I just hate leaving you all alone after all this time."

"I'm not alone, Coop. Like you said, I've got Kurt … and the other New Directions, too."

"Very true. Don't let Kurt go, Blaine. I'm serious. He's probably the best boyfriend in the world."

"I know," Blaine replied fondly. "Now go catch your plane. I'll see you at Thanksgiving!"

Cooper couldn't help but hope it would be in an entirely different capacity than the previous Thanksgiving.

* * *

The next time Blaine saw Quinn, she was sullenly sitting at a park bench and watching the kids running around on the playground. He decided it was as good a time as any to rest and stretch for a bit in the middle of his run, so he padded up to the bench.

She was playing with a lighter and an unopened pack of cigarettes. Blaine grinned a little bit when he noticed the clear plastic hadn't even been removed yet. Obviously, Quinn hadn't been able to completely embrace the rebel persona. Yet.

He was silent as he went through his stretches next to her, waiting for the older girl to make the first move.

"Are you stalking me, Anderson?" a low voice finally drawled.

Blaine looked over. Quinn's eyes were closed and she was leaning back on the bench, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied easily. "You're not my type."

Blaine was pleased when the corners of Quinn's mouth quirked upwards as if she had momentarily forgotten her new image.

"What I'm wondering," Blaine said after another few moments' silence, "is what a good girl from a good family like you has to be upset about."

"What made a good boy from a good family like _you _turn to smack?" Quinn shot back.

The question, however, sounded more honest than accusatory, so Blaine took a deep breath and sat down next to Quinn.

"I wanted to be cool, to feel included. My parents and brother were never there for me, but all those kids were."

"Cool isn't all it's cracked up to be," Quinn said.

"Come on, Quinn, everyone was there for you. The New Directions are the most suffocatingly supportive people I've met, and from what I've heard you weren't _too _badly shunned when you got pregnant. You're the most popular girl at school – or at least, you were – because you _knew _everyone."

"Maybe so, but no one really _knows _me. I just had to get away from all that because, honestly, I _really don't care _about any of that stuff. I need to be alone, to figure stuff out, to find out what's real."

"Well, being alone sucks," Blaine said resolutely. "So call me if you ever need to talk, alright?"

* * *

Blaine didn't think Quinn would actually call him, but two weeks later, he was sneaking out of his house at one in the morning to meet Quinn at the park again.

This time, Quinn was holding a lit cigarette in her hand, but judging from the lack of lipstick stains on the filter, she still hadn't adopted the habit.

"Those things'll kill you, you know," Blaine said as he took the seat next to her again.

"Oh, and heroin won't?" Quinn shot back. There was a long pause before she whispered, "Sorry. That was uncalled for."

"It's okay. You didn't ask me here to lecture you, and that's not why I came. Truce?"

"Truce."

"Well, no that that's out of the way, why _did _you ask me here?"

"I don't even know," Quinn admitted. "Company, maybe? Someone who I know can't judge me and actually wants to be around me?"

"Okay."

The two sat in silence for just over an hour before Quinn got up and announced that she had to go back home.

* * *

Quinn never told Blaine explicitly, be he knew that their late night friendship was to be kept secret, especially from Kurt.

It became more difficult, however, when one date's conversation turned to Quinn's transformation.

"I just don't get that girl. Wearing those awful clothes and doing that to her hair is one thing, but it's like she _tries_ to screw her life up," Kurt was saying. "So her boyfriend broke up with her. So what? Everyone at school still loves and is scared of her, even after everything!"

"Kurt," Blaine said, trying to maintain an even temper as he defended his new friend – who, he was realizing, was probably his closest confidante other than Cooper or Kurt - "this is not a choice a person makes on a whim."

"Blaine, this is nothing like what happened with you."

"No, you're right. This is much _better._ Quinn is trying to explore herself and her issues with impermanent changes to her wardrobe rather than pumping her body full of drugs and sleeping with anyone that'll take her."

"Still, it doesn't give her an excuse to go around wearing those … _things_. They don't even deserve to be called clothes."

"Kurt, Quinn is going through a tough time and she needs her friends to support her."

Blaine knew they had reached a stalemate in the conversation – Kurt would never budge on a topic regarding clothes – but he couldn't help but to fight back.

* * *

The first time Quinn smoked a cigarette, she coughed for three minutes straight. Blaine laughed at her, but finally taught her the proper technique for inhaling when her scowl became especially venomous.

"How did you become such an expert?" she asked sourly.

Blaine plucked the smoking stick from her fingers and took a long drag. "I've had a lot of practice. Cigs were never my thing, but I'd take what I could get when I got desperate." He wrinkled his nose at the taste in his mouth and continued. "Either I've forgotten how absolutely disgusting these are, or you have really bad taste in cigarettes, Fabray."

"I just grabbed the cheapest ones I could find," Quinn admitted with a laugh. She was doing that a lot more lately.

"Well, next time get something a bit more refined. I may not like them much, if you're going to smoke, it better be tolerable."

* * *

Once Quinn became a bit more accomplished of a smoker, she decided to celebrate with a bottle of her mother's vodka mixed with cranberry juice cocktail. Blaine eyed the drink, torn between his thoughts; he was amused that to the McKinley kids, 'going hard' was a drink that was more juice than alcohol, and he was also unsure if he should really be drinking.

"I think it'd be safer for me to take a smoke," he said, "and as I've said before, I don't even like them."

"Come on, Anderson. You've got a drug problem, not a drinking problem. You're allowed to have a drink every now and then if you want."

"Technically, neither of us are since we're not 21," Blaine pointed out.

"Just shut up and drink," Quinn said with a roll of her eyes.

Blaine shrugged and gave in – the drink wasn't really that strong at all, anyway. Plus, he decided that it really was okay to act like a normal teenager in at least _some _respects.

* * *

Blaine was invited to join Kurt, Finn, Rachel, Burt, and Carole for a few days at a rented lake house in mid-August. They picked him up early one morning, only a few hours after he'd returned from a late night adventure with Quinn.

Blaine had been so exhausted upon getting home that he'd simply collapsed in bed and snoozed his alarm until about ten minutes before the others arrived. He barely had time to change and brush his teeth, and he knew that he probably looked awful.

"You look awful," Kurt confirmed as Blaine slid next to him in the back of the car.

"Gee, thanks, Kurt," Blaine replied shortly.

"You know I didn't mean it like that," Kurt said.

"Yeah, I know, sorry. I just had a really late night."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I was with a friend, and we just lost track of time."

"Is this friend the reason you also reek of smoke?"

Blaine looked slightly embarrassed as he mumbled, "Yeah."

"Do I know this friend?"

"No – I mean, yeah."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you."

"I swear to _God_, Blaine, you better not be doing anything. First off, cigarettes smell awful, ruin your voice, and gunk up your insides. And if you're doing anything else -"

"Whoa, Kurt! Are you actually accusing me of using again?"

"I don't know, Blaine,. You're just acting really suspicious."

"I'm allowed to have my own life, Kurt. I'm a big boy."

The entire conversation had been held in hushed tones so the others wouldn't overhear, but Blaine's last comment had been a bit too loud and attracted the attention of the four other occupants of the vehicle.

"Of course you're allowed to have your own life," Kurt said, trying to do damage control. "I just don't want you hanging out with people who are bad influences."

Blaine bit back his retort that he could choose his own friends – his history was against him in this case.

"Kurt, my friend isn't a bad influence. They're just … going through a tough time, and I can relate."

Kurt still looked unconvinced, so Blaine continued. "Anyway, booze and cigarettes are totally legal, so it's no big deal."

"Only if you're 18 or 21," Kurt reminded Blaine, echoing the younger boy's earlier feeble protest as the conversation ended.

* * *

The house that Burt and Carole rented at the lake was perfect. There were four decent-sized bedrooms throughout the house, but it still managed to retain the feel of a small cottage. Both Rachel and Kurt got their own rooms while Blaine shared with Finn. Carole and Burt had initially tried to insist that Blaine, as a guest, should get his own room, but after one look at his boyfriend's face, Blaine asserted that he would share with Finn.

Burt and Carole left to get some groceries when they finished settling in, and Finn and Rachel made a beeline for the beach, leaving Kurt and Blaine inside. Alone.

"So," Kurt said awkwardly, "what do you want to do?"

There was still tension left over from their fight in the car, and Blaine was sure that Kurt was going to want to talk about that. So he took initiative.

"Oof! Blaine," Kurt's muffled voice called a moment later. Blaine had practically launched himself at Kurt in the moment of silence.

"_What _are you doing?" Kurt hissed, pushing Blaine away.

"Come on, Kurt. We _never_ get left alone together. Let's make the most of it."

Kurt pinked. "Blaine," he hissed in embarrassment, looking around as if he expected someone to walk in.

"_Kurt_," Blaine countered, lowering his voice and turning on his bedroom eyes. "No one searched me when I got here. Maybe you'd like to do a more thorough job?"

Kurt's face was beet red. "Blaine! You can;t – I mean, what if – someone -"

"We're alone. Come on, Kurt. You're so hot. You don't understand what you do to me, how hard it is for me to keep my hands off of you."

Kurt still looked unsure – scared, even.

"I'll take care of you, babe," Blaine said, his voice softer, quieter.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Blaine was gasping in awe as he caught his first sight of his boyfriend's naked chest.

"God, Kurt, you're gorgeous," he gasped, pulling away from the older boy's mouth for a moment.

Kurt didn't know how to respond, so he just pulled Blaine close into another deep kiss.

However, their bliss was short-lived, as the front door opened and Carole's voice called up the stairs in greeting.

* * *

For some reason, ever since Kurt and Blaine had progressed to shirtless exploration of their bodies, Kurt seemed more shy and closed off than before.

On their last night at the lake, Blaine decided to finally address the issue.

"Is something wrong, Kurt?" Blaine asked.

Kurt looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "What? Why would something be wrong?"

"Well, ever since Thursday night, you've been avoiding me."

"What are you talking about, Blaine? I've spent the whole weekend with you!"

"Only if Finn, Rachel, your dad, or Carole was also in the room," Blaine pointed out. "I need you to tell me if you're uncomfortable or if you feel like I'm pressuring you."

"I just – I don't know. I mean, on the one hand, I feel so – inadequate with all this. But I do want to, believe me. I just don't want you to to use intimacy to avoid talking to me, either."

"You caught on to that?" Blaine asked.

"Right away. It was in your favor, though, that I really wanted you right then, too."

"Good," Blaine said, "because I'd totally be okay with a repeat performance whenever you want."

"But first, you have to talk to me," Kurt stated firmly.

"I _can't,_ Kurt. I promise, I'm not doing anything illegal. I might be drinking a bit of really pathetically weak drinks and smoking the occasional cigarette, but nothing like before. I just have this friend who really needs not to be judged right now. And judging anyone would make me the world's biggest hypocrite, not to mention a giant asshole."

"Okay," Kurt said. "I trust you. But call me if you ever need help."

"Of course. I really love you, Kurt."

"Love you, too."


	13. IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE

So I've been having a bit of writer's block on _I'm Gonna Try for the Kingdom_ for a while, if it wasn't already obvious from my lack of updates in the recent past.

But in light of Cory's recent death, I'm hesitant to continue the story at the present moment. Don't worry, I _will_ finish it - I'm not one to leave a story without any sort of conclusion - however I feel uncomfortable posting a fic dealing with drug issues, something which I admittedly know very little about, considering Cory's struggles and the Glee fandom's fragile state right now.

So _I'm Gonna Try_ is on a temporary hiatus for an indeterminate amount of time until inspiration hits me once again and I feel less crappy about making light of a very serious issue.

Stay strong, guys.


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